Of Crossed Pistols
by CommanderCorvo
Summary: After a bizarre and terrifying experience, the Courier and Arcade awaken in a strange world of magic, intrigue, and dragons. Their lives are further complicated by the introduction of a shadowy figure calling herself the Dragonborn, who offers her aid in finding out just how they came to arrive in this fantastic new land.
1. Chapter 1

***A/N: Contains heavy spoilers for both Fallout and Skyrim.***

**Chapter 1:**

_This is not good._

_This is not good at all._

_Okay, stay calm. Don't panic. You've been in worse situations; you can handle this, right?_

_Oh god._

_Okay, you're not alone. Arcade is here; so that's good. Of course, he's not actually conscious at the mome-_

_Oh my god is he dead?!_

_No. That's good. That's great._

_You've got your weapons; your pistol, your ballistic fist, your rifle, Annabelle..._

_Okay. Look around. Look around, and figure out where the hell you are._

* * *

The Courier turned her head from side to side, brown eyes searching the landscape. It was different; by god, was it different.

There were trees, for starters. And grass. And birds and flowers and rivers and all sorts of wonderful, beautiful, impossible things that hadn't existed for at least two hundred years.

She didn't recognise the place, of course. The Courier was used to dry, barren landscapes with nothing but sand, dirt and death on its twisted roads. Here, though; here was something _different._

It both awed and terrified her. Fields of lush green grass stretched out before her, clear skies allowing the sun to shine beautifully over the lively landscape. Trees like the Christmas trees she had seen in old vids towered high above, enough there to make up forests. Far away, she spotted something moving; a horned, four legged creature with delicate movements. She doubted it was hostile. A river flowed down a small incline, its waters clean and clear, looking like they weren't irradiated at all. In the distance, huge mountains towered into the sky. She shivered in the breeze, and began to notice the sheer cold in the air. And it was freezing, especially when compared to the harsh, beating heat of the Mojave Wasteland.

The Courier stood up; her skin covered in goosebumps from the icy air, and checked her Pip-Boy's map. She sighed in frustration seeing nothing but a blank orange screen. Then she looked around her, and tried to work out how she had gotten to this alien land.

_Last thing I remember, I was heading back to New Vegas. Yes, on the way back from the Big Mt, and all that trouble there... I had met Arcade outside, and we were just starting to leave when I saw something strange in the distance. Then there was a loud sound, high pitched, like a woman screaming, bright white lights... and then silence. And now, here I am._

Arcade stirred behind her, his blonde head lifting groggily from the grass.

"My god... Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming..." He murmured as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

"That's what I thought, but I don't know anymore. Are you alright?"

"I'm okay, thanks... What's going on? Where are we?"

"That's what I'm trying to work out."

Arcade shook his head dazedly, adjusting his askew black-framed glasses worriedly. "I remember you told me to look at something far away, then a lot of colour, and screaming..."

"You heard screaming?" The Courier turned to look at him, surprised. "I thought I imagined that."

"I'm fairly certain-" He broke off, spotting something in the distance. "Hey, what's that?"

The Courier spun round just in time to see an arrow whizzing past, inches from her head. She ducked instinctively and rolled, drawing her 10mm pistol.

Arcade quickly pulled out his energy pistol, and the pair ran towards their attackers.

"People still use arrows? That's a new one." Arcade said breathlessly, his feet pounding on the grassy hills.

"Maybe it's the Legion. You know how they love their old school weaponry." The Courier yelled back from in front of him.

"All too well." He said darkly.

Up close, they could see the attackers more clearly. They looked strange, with unrecognisable armour and odd war paint; four of them, two women and two men. The Courier raised her pistol and fired off a bullet, a loud crack echoing through the air as it burst through an attacker's head. Crimson blood exploded from the wound and pieces of pink flesh flew out, her body flopping limply to the floor. She didn't even have time to scream.

The three other attackers stopped in place. They lowered their weapons; a bow, a sword and a mace; and stared in horror at the pistol in the Courier's hand.

"What? Never seen a gun before?" She asked sarcastically, keeping her weapon pointed at them.

They seemed rooted in place, their eyes shocked. One of them, a dark woman with a brown Mohawk, tightened her grip on her weapon.

"What is..."

The Courier hesitated, and then begrudgingly lowered her gun.

"Who are you? What are you so afraid of? It's only a pistol..."

"A what? It just exploded her head! What _is_ that? Some sort of... crossbow?"

Arcade lowered his pistol. "You're being serious, aren't you? You've never seen a gun before." He shook his head in disbelief.

The temptation of the power of the pistol was too much for the bandits. The attacker on the left, a burly pale man with a long blonde beard and strange war paints, leapt forward swinging his mace. For a man of his size, he moved fast. He managed to spring forward and strike Arcade on the head with his weapon, causing him to cry out as blood spurted from his forehead. The Courier jumped in shock, as the other two quickly moved into action; the woman raised her blade as the other strung an arrow.

"Give us that weapon, or I swear to Azura, you will pay!" The woman yelled, jumping at the Courier with her silver sword.

"Why say that if you're going to attack us anyway?" The Courier rolled out of the way, just in time to see the blade swishing through the space she had just occupied. She fired off another bullet, and caught the woman in the arm; she screamed in pain but continued to swing at the Courier. Her blade caught the Courier lightly on the cheek, drawing a sharp painful line of blood. The Courier grunted in pain and stumbled, but managed to aim her pistol at her attacker's forehead - the next bullet making it sure she wouldn't attack again.

Turning around, the Courier could just see Arcade finish off the man with an energy blast to the head; incinerating him to glowing dust. She raised her pistol, and a final bullet killed the last survivor easily.

The pair took a moment to catch their breaths and patch up their wounds, as they observed the bloody carnage before them.

"And here I was thinking we had died and gone to Heaven."

"What was wrong with them? And what was up with the way they looked?"

Arcade shrugged. "No idea. They look like people from old fantasy vids. I'm fairly certain they're not Legion, though."

"They've got women fighters, so there's no way. They're not dressed like Romans, ether."

The two drifted into silence as they looked at the Earth around them. It truly was beautiful, at least if you ignored the corpses spreading blood across the ground.

* * *

Not far away, a woman stood watching them. She crept forward silently, a dagger held tightly in one gloved hand.

She was an assassin; _the_ assassin, in fact. She was Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, a prestigious title indeed. Blessings from Sithis allowed her to creep silently towards the unsuspecting duo with ease, although she was not sure if she wanted to silence or interrogate them.

The female in front of her was short, with sandy hair scraped back into a loose bun. She wore odd clothes; a long black duster with the number 21 on the back, a scarlet beret and a black glass object on her face. She held the silver weapon in her left hand, the other hand slung lazily in her pocket. Her face and clothes were filthy, streaked with dirt and dried blood. She had the appearance of one who had been in a great many battles, and hadn't won all of them.

The male didn't seem as battle scarred, but still seemed very capable. He was very tall, with light blonde, almost white hair, a long white robe and thick framed, clear versions of the woman's facial accessory. He was handsome, and had a confident, if reserved, presence, but certainly didn't look much like a warrior or fighter. Perhaps a mage.

Eventually, her blade slid back into its holder, and she raised herself to full height.

* * *

"Well met, travelers."

"Huh?" The Courier and Arcade spun around at the polite, female voice behind them.

The woman was not normal, to put it lightly. She had an alien appearance; grey, almost purple skin, pointed ears and a heavily bridged nose, with deep red eyes that stood out startlingly in the darkness of her face. She wore black and red robes, and had a smile that, despite its attempt at friendliness, had a fierceness behind it that showed that she was not to be trifled with. An ornate dagger rested in a sheath on her belt. She wasn't particularly tall, but she had strongly set features and had the appearance of someone who could look after herself. She nodded slightly, her eyes gleaming slyly, as she observed the two. She carried herself in a refined, calm manner, but had a presence that would strike fear into the hearts of most people. Luckily, the Courier and Arcade were not most people.

"Uh, hey." The Courier said hesitantly.

She could tell Arcade's mind was whizzing just by looking at his fascinated stare. Was she a mutant? He would be wondering. Some sort of Nightkin?

"May I say, you're looking rather lost. Although you seem capable of taking care of yourselves, clearly." The woman replied, indicating to the dead bodies sprawled across the hill.

"Well, we're well armed." The Courier replied, showing off her pistol cautiously.

"I can see. If you don't mind, I will admit to have been watching you for a while. Those weapons you have... they are alien to this land. May I ask what they are?"

"T-they're just guns... Why doesn't anyone know about them?" The Courier holstered her gun with a tired shake of her head. "Look, this is going to sound weird but I just have to ask. Do you know where the hell we are?"

The woman did not hesitate. "We are in Falkreath Hold, not too far from the capital of the same name. May I ask where you're heading?"

"That's the thing. We don't actually know." Arcade said sheepishly. "Truth is, we just woke up on the ground over there, and this place is certainly not anything like where we came from. It's too... natural, one thing. Everything is different; including the people." He stepped towards the tranquil woman more confidently. "Apologies if this is rude, but do you mind telling us just _what_ you are? Some kind of Ghoul, or mutant maybe...?" He drifted off, seeing the woman's bemused face.

"Ghoul? I should hope not. I am a Dunmer, or dark elf as some prefer to call us. I find it strange that you have never seen one like myself before."

Arcade raised his eyebrows disbelievingly and folded his arms. "Oh, right. Elves. Now I've heard everything."

The woman raised an eyebrow, and grinned wider; her teeth bared intimidatingly.

"Uh, nice to meet you." The Courier cut in hurriedly, hoping to avoid another confrontation.

The woman returned to her untrustworthy, but less threatening, smile.

"You as well. So, I am assume you need some assistance. Perhaps heading to Falkreath would be most helpful. I am heading there myself, in fact."

The Courier wasn't particularly enthusiastic about the plan, but she saw no alternative. "Great. Let's go together, then." She gestured for a handshake, and the grey women returned it delicately. "Oh, how rude of me. I did not introduce myself." She bowed her head ceremoniously. "I am Mia Virin, also known as the Dragonborn."

The name did not have its intended effect.

"Dragonborn, huh? Nice title. Why'd they call you that?" The Courier remarked.

"You do not know the legend of the Dragonborn? Of the mortal born with a dragon's soul?" She said confusedly, to bemused glances between the pair.

"Dragons, now, is it? Hmm." Arcade muttered.

Mia glared at him. "Have you not been aware of the recent events at all?"

"Well, no. We just kind of got here."

"I suppose." She concluded doubtfully. "I will inform you of current affairs on the way there. And, your names...?"

"Uh, right. Most people just call me the Courier."

"So... you don't have a real name?"

"Oh, well, it's Alice. But most just call me the Courier, or Courier Six if they're feeling particularly inventive." She shrugged dismissively. "I don't mind, really. I'm used to it."

"How peculiar. A great many people simply call me the Dragonborn, or Dovakiin, or yet another name or sobriquet. Strange how little people remember the person over the title."

Alice nodded sympathetically, all too familiar with the feeling. Arcade reached forward for a handshake, and received an admittedly more reluctant one from Mia.

"I'm Arcade Israel Gannon, but you can just call me Arcade."

"Interesting name; most unusual." Mia replied. "Are you also a Courier?"

"Oh, no. I'm a doctor for the Followers of the Apocalypse, currently aiding the Cou- uh, Alice."

"A... doctor?"

"Yeah, you know. Like a... healer? For the sick?" He said slowly.

Realisation dawned on her face. "Ah, I see. I had you pegged as a mage."

"A mage? Like a wizard?"

"Of course. So, are you ready?"

Alice shrugged, then nodded helplessly. She could see no other option.

The trio began to walk over the silent landscape of Skyrim.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

The three made their way over the grassy plains, avoiding conflict when possible. They had only two incidents; both similar to the previous fight. The Courier assumed that the attackers were this place's form of raiders, or bandits, as Mia called them. Either way, they didn't put up much of a fight. As they walked, Mia filled them in on their whereabouts.

They were in Skyrim, a province of Tamriel, on the planet Nirn. It was far up North, explaining the cold weather, and was home mainly to the Nords.

"Nords?"

"A proud people, mainly warriors. They prize themselves on their skills in battle, and are often wary of people outside their race." Mia glowered. "Especially Argonians and Dunmer, like myself." She told them of the many races, and of the places around Tamriel.

"I hail from Morrowind, like many Dunmer. I came to Skyrim looking for a new life; I ended up nearly executed." She chuckled humourlessly. "I had a batch of misfortune, and, whilst crossing the border, was captured with several high ranking rebels and was set to be executed. Thankfully, I escaped due to a rather... distracting event."

"Rebels?" Alice asked, completely overwhelmed. There was so much to take in.

Mia looked at her. "Ah, I forget you do not know. Skyrim is in the midst of a civil war, between the Empire and the Stormcloaks. The Empire makes up most of the provinces, formally led by the reigning Emperor. Of course, the Emperor was recently assassinated, so there is no set leader at the moment."

"Assassinated? By the Stormcloaks, I'm guessing."

Mia smiled slightly, and her eyes glinted in the sunlight. "Not exactly." She moved on before any questions could be asked. "The Stormcloaks are Nord rebels, led by Ulfric Stormcloak. They claim to be 'true sons and daughters of Skyrim', here to reclaim their land from the Empire's elves. I can't say I support them; the way they treat other races should show you why. Speaking of which," She said, turning to them. "Which race _are_ you two?"

"Uh... human?" Alice replied unsurely. The elf chuckled. "Yes, I am aware of that, but which type? Nord, Breton...?"

"Caucasian, I guess? I suppose race doesn't factor in as much where we come from. Everyone's just human. Except the Ghouls and Super Mutants, of course."

Mia thought for a moment. "I'd recommend telling people you are Nords. Less likely to get discriminated against, and you should pass for one easily."

"If you say so."

After a while, Arcade spoke up. "So, you fight for the Empire then?"

The Dragonborn shook her head. "I fight for myself. No one else."

Alice nodded with approval. "Good for you. I'm fighting for New Vegas' independence, not for the NCR or Mr House. And definitely not for the Legion."

"NCR? Legion?"

The Courier sighed, as she realised the extent of their differences.

"I guess I better fill you in."

* * *

Half an hour later, Mia knew, mostly, about what was happening in the Mojave.

"Your land... it sounds so bizarre to my ears. But I suppose mine does to yours. A post-apocalyptic world must be horrific to live in."

"Eh, it has its moments. I guess we're used to it. It isn't all bad, honestly. Sure, there's a lot of bad people, but there are a great deal more good ones." Alice replied.

"The same could be said of Skyrim. So there are no plants, no grass, no natural life at all?"

"You get the odd cactus, xander root or broc flower, but on the whole it's pretty barren. A nuclear war will do that to a world."

Mia shook her head, unable to understand the level of destruction. "One can't help but wonder if Nirn would have looked like that, had Alduin succeeded."

She noticed the looks on her companions' faces. "I will tell you more about that later. Just know that my world nearly ended recently." She stared into the distance. "Perhaps Paarthurnax was right; the world should end, so another may be born." Mia said absently, more to herself than anyone else.

"I don't know. I reckon we should try to get to the point we're we don't have to blow up the world. Just a suggestion, though." Arcade answered sourly. Mia shook out of it, and changed the subject.

"So, you fight for New Vegas' freedom?"

Alice nodded.

"I'm impressed. So much has been done, all because of one woman."

"Well, I wasn't entirely alone. I had plenty of help, like from Arcade here, Veronica, Boone..." Her voice trailed off as a new thought dawned in her mind. She turned to Arcade worriedly. "Hey... what if we don't find a way back home? What if we_ can't_ find a way back?"

Arcade said encouragingly, "Aut viam inveniam aut faciam. We've been in more trouble than this."

"Have we?" She shook her head doubtfully. "I don't know. Sure, we've been in bad situations before, like the whole incident at Big Mountain. That was kind of crazy, with the whole 'losing my major body parts and meeting my brain' thing, but I'm not sure it compares to this. This is a whole other level of weird."

"I pretty certain we're still on Earth. They must call it a different name here or something. But how we got here? No idea."

Mia looked at him doubtfully. "I would not be so assured of that. We have had things from stranger places than other planets come to Nirn. It is not so farfetched that you could have come here."

Reluctantly, Arcade considered this. "Perhaps. But I still can't believe it. How could we have possibly gone to another planet without knowing it?"

"Perhaps it could be the result of magic?"

"Magic? Our world doesn't have magic." Arcade replied.

"No, but ours does." She said, "Maybe someone performed some sort of summoning ritual that caused you to come here?"

The Courier was doubtful. "Even if magic does work here, I don't get why someone would want to summon us. Or how magic would work in a place where it doesn't exist."

Arcade shook his head virulently. "Exactly. There has to be a logical reason."

"Ah, so you follow the philosophy of the ancient dwemer, or dwarves."

"Oh yeah? And what happened to them?"

"They were obliterated from reality."

Arcade shrugged dismissively. "Eh, worse things have happened."

"I will show you magic, if you need proof." Mia lifted a gloved left hand, palm facing towards the sky. She clenched her fingers, then released. A spark of fire burst from her hand, making her observers jump. It settled and burned calmly, soft flames flickering upwards. Despite Alice and Arcade feeling the intense heat from it, Mia seemed undisturbed.

"D-damn." The Courier remarked. "How did you do that? Some kind of... implants?"

"Simple magic. Nothing more." She clenched her fist again, and the fire vanished into nothingness. "Most people here are capable of it."

Shaking her head, Alice remarked, "I'm not sure on this one. Magic sounds pretty impossible, but so does everything else here. Maybe it was something scientific; maybe it was something else entirely. Maybe both. Hopefully we'll find out later."

* * *

The sun had just reached its peak when they arrived in Falkreath. It was a small village; few people wandered on its dirt streets and buildings were far and few in between. The houses themselves were small, with wooden walls and thatched roofs. However, the Courier noted, they were much nicer than the burnt, irradiated husks that passed for buildings in the Mojave. A large graveyard could be seen sprawling across part of the land, surprising considering the small size of the town. Pillars of ash and smoke ascended from fire pits laid around the village, and the area gave off an atmosphere of grimness as light rain began to fall from the clouds.

"Welcome to Falkreath. It is not much, I will admit. But there are worse places." The Dragonborn said casually.

"Yeah, I'll say." The Courier replied, "So, what are our options?"

"Well, I believe-" Mia cut off, her eyes narrowing. "Do you hear that?"

They looked around as a sound like the flapping of wings filled the air. An almighty roar echoed around the village, and then there was a lone cry of terror as it came into sight.

It was a dragon.

It was immensely large; with scales of gleaming, cracked silver and eyes that burned in their sockets. Sharp teeth like icicles bared themselves at the villagers, and massive, battle-worn wings flapped in the wind as the dragon paused in mid-air.

"Holy mother of... _what the hell is that_?" The Courier exclaimed.

Mia didn't have time to reply, as a burst of scorching fire barrelled past their heads. The dragon roared in frustration as they dodged its attack, and flew upwards; its weathered wings beating with the strength of a deathclaw.

It circled ahead; narrowed eyes searching below for a target as some fled from it, and others stayed to fight. Arrows from nearby guards ricocheted off its hide harmlessly; its skin being too thick to puncture easily. Finally, it focused on the Courier.

_"Ag, joor!"_

Swooping downwards with a deafening cry, it released a burst of flame from its jagged mouth. Before the Courier could dodge, it struck her with the force of a missile. She flew backwards as fire burnt agonisingly into her skin, but she steadied herself and drew her riot shotgun; loading the barrel with experienced hands, she aimed and fired off several rounds into the creature.

The dragon roared and recoiled as the bullets sliced through its wings. It was accustomed to arrows and swords striking it, and the fire of the metal piercing its grey skin was far more painful than it was used to. It let out another breath of flames, weakened but still extremely potent. The flames lit a thatched roof, narrowly avoiding the Dragonborn; the heat from the fire still as hot as ever.

The guardsmen continued their assault; their well fletched arrows finally starting to have an impact on the creature's weakened state.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, there was a shout. But not an ordinary one. This didn't sound simply like someone's war cry; the sound rolled across the landscape, loud and piercing, and shook the others to their cores. Who had it come from? The Courier couldn't see, but she noticed the dragon roaring as blue light encompassed it, and then sharply dropping downwards, its wings kicking up a cloud of dirt and fallen leaves. For a second the Courier thought it was over. Then it started to crawl on its wings, fury portrayed in its viscous movement as it leapt forwards, and snapped its immense jaw onto an unfortunate guard. A gurgled cry came from him as teeth ground into his bones, and then silence as his bloodied body sunk to the ground.

Mia ducked into hiding; her body encompassed by a black swirl as she vanished from view. The dragon searched frantically as the bullet from the Courier's shotgun and blasts from Arcade's energy weapon become more and more intense and efficient. It became increasingly aware of the danger it was in, and newfound desperation struck inside it. There were too many targets, too many attackers, too much _pain_.

As the dragon was distracted, the Dragonborn had snuck behind it, her blade drawn. With silent efficiency, her arm raised and brought down the cold metal across its spiked tail. An agonised cry rose from it as its tail split from its body in a burst of copper blood. It flung its heavy head around and snapped its jaw wildly into the air behind it, and by chance managed to dig its teeth into Mia's left arm, which reappeared in a flash of darkness. She gritted her teeth in pain as the white hot puncture wound began leaking scarlet, but held on and managed to slice her dagger across the dragon's glaring eyes. It let out another cry as red filled its vision, and whipped its head around wildly in an attempt to stop the pain.

_"Dur hio!"_It cried in a deep, booming voice.

From several meters away, the Courier put away her gun.

"Time to finish this."

Out of one of her many pockets, she withdrew a glove. Not an ordinary glove, of course; this was a ballistic fist, a metal fist cover with the power to punch at ludicrous speed and strength. She clipped it over her right hand and sprinted forwards, footsteps beating against the dirt, towards the screaming dragon. Her feet left the ground as she neared it, and with a deep breath drew back her fist and punched as hard as she could.

The dragons head whipped back at the force of her punch, and crimson blood spurted from its mouth as it roared incoherently. Finally, it stopped attacking.

Its whole body ridged upwards, but not as a final sign of defiance. It was a sign of defeat.

_"NO!_ Zu nis dir!" It cried, and then there was silence.

The corpse fell down heavily, its previous vigour and viciousness draining away as it settled on the hard ground. The Courier stood up shakily, and watched in awe at what was happening in front of her.

The dragon was burning. Its skin was melting off, in small patches, and soft flames burst from its bones as the body was reduced to bones and ashes. There was a slight whooshing sound, like a strong wind, and a glowing white light emanated from the fire. The light grew in intensity and size, and then flew onwards, towards the Dragonborn. She stood silently as the glow surrounded her, tendrils of light escaping past and fading out of sight. Light covered her, and then it ended. Nothing remained but the bones of the dragon, and the awed onlookers.

"W-What was that?" The Courier asked, stunned.

"I believe I mentioned being Dragonborn, yes?"

"Think so."

"Well, that was it. I absorbed the dragon's soul."

"…Absorbed it? Is this magic again?"

"Of a sort. Shall we continue?"

Alice shrugged, once again at a loss. "Okay. What's our plan?"

"I would advise taking a carriage to the College of Winterhold. They are very knowledgeable about strange occurrences; in fact, this would probably seem quite the norm for them."

"Sounds good. Is it far?"

"Fairly, but if we take the carriage we should be able to get there within a day."

The Courier shrugged tiredly. "Well, no time to waste. Let's head out."

* * *

After patching up their wounds and boarding the carriage, the Courier decided to find out more about the shady figure that was, for some reason, deciding to help them. "So, Mia, what do you do around here? Except for killing dragons, of course. "

The Dunmer pulled her hood over her long dark hair, avoiding her gaze. "I... work for an organisation. An organisation that... specialises in certain areas... not usually approved by general society."

Alice raised one eyebrow. "I'm guessing it isn't some sort of charity for orphans then. What is it, a gang? Like the Khans?"

"No, not a gang. Something much more refined. But I'm afraid I can't tell you, not yet. Perhaps later."

Alice shrugged. She was used to shady figures and elusive answers. "Fair enough."

They rested on the wooden seats as they began their journey towards the College of Winterhold, and, hopefully, towards some answers.

* * *

**Dragon Language:**

_Ag, joor! - _Burn, mortal!

_Dur hio! - _Curse you!

_Zu nis dir! -_ I cannot die!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Winterhold was, even by Skyrim's standards, freezing. The harsh wind blew heavy snow across the town, filling the air with ice. The flakes slowly accumulated onto the thatched roofs of the small houses, and dripping icicles hung from stone ledges. The world seemed to be awash with white.

Once a major city, Winterhold itself was old, and fragile; badly damaged by the claws of natural disasters. Half of it had crumbled into the sea below it during the Great Collapse, a time of constant storms and extreme weather, meaning the city had fallen almost to ruins. Winterhold was a shell of its former glory; its buildings rotten and poorly crafted, the streets paved with broken cobbles, the atmosphere bleak from the disillusionment of its residents. More notably, perhaps, was the structure that lay just beyond the town's gates; something much grander than the city itself. The College of Winterhold, an immense vessel of magical knowledge and power, loomed into the grey skies; isolated from the rest of town by residing upon a free-standing section of large rock, and connected to the mainland by a thin bridge.

The College itself, although no longer the incredible picture of success and glory it had once been, had remained much more prosperous than its home city; with towering spires, lavish stained glass windows, and magical beams of colour that shone into the dark sky. The College, despite its grand power and resources, had a terrible reputation among Skyrim's non-mage residents; a reflection of the suspicion and distrust held for magic, and a remnant of the blame the Collage had received for the Great Collapse many years ago. The current events in Skyrim had not helped matters at all.

The three adventurers watched as the College came into view from their small carriage. The weather had worsened as they left Falkreath and travelled further north, and it had reached its peak in this bleak looking town. The chill in the air only made the Courier want to retreat to the cover of the College more.

"Here we are. If we pass through this town, we should be able to head straight up to the College." Mia said, indicating to the cobbled path through Winterhold. "The College is not well looked on in Skyrim, but it has great amounts of information available to it. I have had dealings here before."

"Not the most cheerful place, is it?" The Courier remarked sourly, glancing at the sullen glares of the town's residents.

Mia shook her head sadly. "No, unfortunately. Winterhold gets worse and worse as the years pass, and more and more people are leaving. I do not doubt that this once proud city will soon be completely abandoned."

Arcade replied darkly, "Still better than Nipton."

They stood up awkwardly, legs stiff from the long ride, and got off the carriage. They began to head up the stone path, as the snowfall somehow got even heavier. As they walked, the Courier became aware of people glancing up to the skies and the roads leading from the town. She wondered why for a moment, and then realised. These people were _scared_. Of rabid animals, perhaps, or the risk of their homes being invaded by soldiers, or being caught up in the crossfire of a bloody civil war. Perhaps, this land was not as different to the Wasteland as it seemed.

The path to the College was spindly, and treacherous. Large parts of the stone bridge had broken off into the sea, and little to no protection from storms meant the bridge had been weakened structurally. The Courier guessed that it wouldn't be long before it broke under some poor fool's feet, sending the whole thing into the crashing waves below it.

They navigated the path, taking care to stay away from the edges. As they neared the College's ornate gates, several stone bases came into view; each housing a small ball of glowing magical energy. The Courier would never cease to be amazed by the strange, unearthly power that seemed so common here. Mia led the way through a large grey archway, leading to a large, slightly eroded, yet still beautiful statue of a hooded woman with open arms; seemingly channeling the beam of sapphire light burning into the sky. They were in a circular courtyard, swamped with pure snow. The College curved around the yard like a barrier, with the Hall of the Elements standing above it. It towered into the sky; one of the highest buildings in Skyrim, it was visible from miles around. In the curved section, many large archways were located. Several doors became visible, each leading to a different section of the large College.

A few people passed by, both teachers and students, often glancing at the trio curiously. The people here were different to the rest of Winterhold's inhabitants; happier, and with eyes that shone with bright wisdom.

"We should see what the Arch-Mage, Savos Aren, knows. He is the most likely to be aware of unusual magical incidents in Skyrim." Mia said, before noticing a tall figure disappearing behind the doors to the Hall of the Elements. "Ah, there he is."

They hurried after him, leaving deep footprints in the snow. Mia pushed open the large oak doors the Arch-Mage had just entered; the Courier and Arcade following unsurely.

As they headed inside, they were greeted by large golden gates, with an eye shaped insignia built into their design. The Courier found herself marvelling at the intricate design of the architecture; in a nuclear wasteland, you were lucky to find a building intact, let alone decorated. They pushed the heavy gate open, and the hinges creaked loudly in the quiet of the hall. They could see Aren across the hall, talking in quick, hushed tones to a nervous looking woman.

The hall itself was grand, with curved archways, tall curved windows, and an impossibly high ceiling. In the centre, a large stone base sat, similar to the ones outside although much larger. A single beam of light shone upwards into a hole in the ceiling, and despite the Courier straining her eyes, she could not see where it ended. Wisps of misty blue emanated from it, joined by sparks of white. Around the stone floor, the same eye insignia as was on the gate was engraved.

They walked around the base, and headed towards the pair. Closer up, the Courier could see that the Arch-Mage was a dark elf, like Mia. He wore purple, fur lined robes that covered his head, and stood with an air of importance. The woman he was speaking to was human, with short brown hair and a serious expression.

"We can't just let them pin this on us, like they always-" Aren broke off, seeing the three waiting next to him. "Excuse me, Mirabelle."

He turned to them impatiently. "Can I help you?" His eyes widened as he caught sight of Mia. "Oh, the Dragonborn! What brings you here? Need more information on the Scrolls?"

She shook her head. "Are we interrupting?"

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "No, it's just... well, there's been a bit of disturbance near Dawnstar. Apparently, some sort of portal opened, and strange people came through. According to my sources, they are unlike any person they have ever seen. They claim to be from some sort of Legion."

Alice felt her heart skip a beat at the last word, and she exchanged shocked glances with Arcade. _The Legion? Could it really be?_

"And now we have the Jarl Skald of Dawnstar blaming the portal opening on the College, because apparently a travelling mage was seen in the area. As if that is sufficient reason to accuse the College of attacking the town."

"This Legion... did it happen to be something called Ceasar's Legion?"

"Ah, yes. That was it. Never heard of it myself."

"We could check it out, see if we can find out what happened." The Courier said quickly, nodding encouragingly when Mia flashed her an odd look.

Aren looked pleasantly surprised. "I would be grateful if you would. Too much is blamed on the College as it is, and we certainly don't need all of this nonsense. I will ensure you are well paid."

"Thanks." The Courier said, knowing she could use all the resources available, if they were going to last in this new world.

They quickly departed the hall, and began to head back to the carriage.

"You seemed eager to help." Mia said, as they walked along the bridge.

"Something he said was familiar. I mentioned Caesar's Legion earlier, didn't I?"

Mia nodded, "I believe so."

"Well, if what he's saying is true, they might be part of the very same army. Maybe they got here the same way we did. And maybe they know how to get back."

"Even if they did, would they tell us?" Arcade asked, glancing nervously down the steep drop, to the black waters below.

"Good point. We aren't exactly on good terms with the Legion. I guess we'll find out more when we get there. You know, if they don't kill us first."

"Are they really that dangerous?" Mia asked incredulously.

"Unfortunately." Arcade replied.

The Courier's face darkened. "If they really are part of Caesar's Legion, we'll have more than just dragons to worry about."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

The carriage trundled along the rough road, each bump sending it rocking. The Courier folded her arms, and then unfolded them and leaned forwards. She shifted about nervously, her eyes glancing at the road ahead.

"Worried?" Mia asked, noticing her companion's restlessness.

"No, it's just..." The Courier said hesitantly. "I don't know. I just have this bad feeling. Like something's going to go horribly wrong."

"You can't know that." Arcade replied, "We don't even know if this really is the Legion."

She leaned back again. "I know, I know. We'll just have to wait and see."

Mia narrowed her eyes. "We will not have to wait long."

In front of them, not too far up the cobbled road, stood an army. Decked in red, they were unmistakable. It was Caesar's Legion, the vast slave army made of assimilated tribes; fearless, brutal and unforgiving. They never showed mercy, and never accepted it.

The Courier felt more and more unnerved as she saw the sheer number of them. There must have been hundreds; recruits, legionaries, veterans, even centurions, all lined up in neat, organised rows.

Each wore scarlet armour, although different in design; some with heavy padding, others with odd headwear. They carried spears and machetes, with some firearms among the higher ranking members. Behind them, they carried a great flag; crimson, with a golden bull bucking its head threateningly. The army stood out against the beauty of the setting sun, like a blood stain on a delicate painting.

"Ah, shit." Alice said softly, as she saw the man standing in front of the army.

_Caesar._

She turned to the others. "I think we're in trouble. I know this bastard."

"Who is he?" Mia asked unsurely.

"Caesar himself. The man who leads the whole damn Legion."

"That... does not sound good."

"Nope. We'll need an army to defeat this amount of legionaries." She raised an eyebrow. "You don't happen to have an army on your side, do you?"

"I... am afraid not."

"Halt." Caesar demanded. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the three, and his skin wrinkled around the edges. He wore a furred red uniform, with a golden medallion. On his right hand was a ballistic fist, similar to Alice's. He was an older man, with white hair and a hard face, and he carried himself in a way that suggested arrogance and superiority. Caesar was infamous back in the Mojave, as a charismatic and brutal leader, known to executing his own men for failures. He was not a man to be crossed easily, especially when backed up by his officers.

"Oh. It's _you_." He said, as he noticed the familiar woman leaning back in the approaching carriage. It stopped a few feet away from him, the driver glancing nervously at his passengers.

"Hi, Caesar. How are you?" The Courier said with mock friendliness.

"Fantastic. You?" Caesar replied affably, smiling smugly.

"Just peachy." She said, climbing off the carriage. Her tone was relaxed, but inside her heart was thudding so hard she thought it would burst. She didn't particularly want a spear in her head, but refused to bow down to Caesar's army. She wouldn't let him win. She _couldn't_ let him win.

"I suppose you got here the same way we did." he said, "And I have the feeling you know just how it happened."

_I do?_

"Perhaps." She decided to bluff it; perhaps he wouldn't attack them if he thought she knew something. She took a step forwards. "And perhaps I'll tell you, if you give me a good offer."

The older man stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I have a proposition. How about you tell me how we got here, and I won't get my army to tear off your** fucking** arms and beat you to death with them."

Arcade jumped down from the carriage. "Charming as ever, Caesar."

Mia followed suit. "I do not recommend threatening my friend, Caesar. It will not end well for you."

Casar glanced over to the Dragonborn. "Huh. What are you, some sort of mutation?" He shook his head. "Ah, I don't even care."

He stepped forwards, towering over the Courier. "Look, I'm not going to lie. Look at your odds. There are three of you, and hundreds of us. So you can either tell us, or you can die. It's simple."

The Courier crossed her arms defiantly. "I'll take my chances."

He sighed, and then walked away, signalling to his officers. "Very well. Kill them all. Burn the bodies when you're done."

Like a well oiled machine, the front line of soldiers sprang into action. Each drew their weapon, and the ones closest to the three leapt forwards, their machetes slicing through the air.

"Shit!" The Courier dodged as the blade swished past, watching the rusted edge as it sliced a line into the side of her long coat. She drew her pistol, and fired a round into a legionnaire's shoulder. It barely slowed him, and he dived forwards again, his teeth bared. A bullet to his chest managed to knock him back, but another man filled his place instantly.

Arcade and Mia had readied their weapons and were holding them back, but were clearly struggling, their hands full with the endless recruits and legionaries. The attacks just kept coming.

The Courier grunted as she felt a bullet lodge itself in her right shoulder. Warm blood soaked through to her coat, and the piercing, burning heat from the bullet was almost unbearable. She knew that they couldn't keep this up.

Arcade panted. "Courier?"

"Yeah?" She replied exhaustedly, shooting a furious recruit.

"Should we run?"

"Yep."

The three began to move back, continuously firing off rounds. Mia fired arrows from an ebony bow, managing to hit a veteran in the eye. He didn't even seem to notice.

"Okay, time to bring out the big guns. Literally." The Courier shouted, and holstered her pistol. Reaching to her back, she unclipped from its holster and drew the biggest, baddest gun she had. Annabelle. Always trustworthy, always devastating.

"Right, this place is about to go up in flames, so let's get the hell out of here."

"Agreed!" Mia replied. "I'll hold them off!"

She lowered her bow, and then threw her voice to the wind. **"FUS RO DAH!"**

A burst of powerful wind caused the nearest attackers to fly backwards into the ones behind them, knocking them over like human dominos.

"Run!"

The three turned and ran, thrown spears thudding at their feet. When they were a safe distance away, the Courier stopped and turned back to the attackers. With a deep breath, she steadied the missile launcher, and fired.

The missile arched across the air, almost in slow motion. The front attackers stopped and tried to retreat, but it was too late. The missile hit flew into the crowd, and a deafening explosion burst outward, flames firing out in every direction. Everyone in the vicinity was blown back, caught up in the chaotic fires, and many screamed as they were set alight. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, and the three turned and ran forwards, before realising their path was blocked by something; a rushing river, flowing down a waterfall.

"Sithis curse them!" Mia hissed, as she noticed the bullet holes in her right arm. More bullets still rushed past overhead.

They stopped at the edge of the river, its clear waters rushing over the rocks down to the lake below.

Turning around, they saw the charging army in pursuit of them. There were still hundreds; the missile had slowed them, but they were relentless.

"They are not going to give up, are they?" Mia remarked, breathing heavily.

"They never do." Alice said, clutching her burning sides.

Mia glanced away from the army, which continued getting ever closer. "We cannot run forever. If we jump down, we may be able to lose them."

Arcade peered down the waterfall, which must have been around thirty feet high. "So, it's either death by the Legion or death by drowning. Brilliant."

They stared down hesitantly for a moment, before the Courier said, "Ah, screw it. Let's do this."

Then she leapt forwards and fell down the waterfall, into the icy waters below.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

The icy water took the Courier's breath away. The cold spread to her core; the intense chill dulling the pain from her wounds. Was she facing upwards or downwards? She couldn't tell; her abrupt flight down the falls had disoriented her greatly. She chose what she hoped was an upwards direction and barrelled through the water, desperately prying her eyes open. The water was clear, and she could see light peaking above the surface. With a final surge of energy, she burst through the lake's surface and trod water, spluttering in the fresh winter air.

Nearby, large splashes indicated the landing of her two companions. The Dragonborn coughed as she surfaced, the water spilling off her dark hair. Arcade swam up a few moments afterwards, hacking up swallowed water, and clutched his glasses tightly in his fist. The three trod water as they got their bearings.

Far away, legionaries began to peer over the side of the waterfall. Noticing their gazes, the Courier looked around, and focused her eyes on a cave in the side of a large rock. It led on from the river, and seemed almost full of water. "Follow me. Swim underwater if you can."

She ducked under the water again, feeling its cold grasp stronger than ever. Swimming under the waves, she kicked towards the cave, refusing to surface despite her burning lungs.

Finally, the water darkened, signalling their entry into the cave. The Courier barrelled back to the surface, filling her lungs with watery, thick air.

"Well, that could have gone worse." Arcade said, as he swam over to Alice.

"Could it have?" Mia replied tiredly, pulling herself up a low hanging ledge, water dripping from her drenched robes.

The other two headed to the side, and climbed up exhaustively. The Courier's duster felt heavy under the weight of absorbed water. She pulled off her military beret and wrung it out, letting water pour into the dark waves below. Her sunglasses had fallen into the lake's depths as she fell, and she doubted she would get them back. The cave was dark, cold and dank, but would provide a useful hiding place for them until the Legion gave up searching.

"That was too close." She breathed, leaning back against the chilly cave wall. She sighed as her muscles relaxed, but then noticed the stinging from her wounds as the shock of the cold water wore off.

She felt inside her sopping pockets. "Damn. Arcade, got any stimpaks?"

He finished wiping his glasses clean and searched through his lab coat, eventually pulling out a single medical kit. "Just the one."

The Courier shook her head as he tried to pass it to her. "Keep it. You look like you need it."

Mia sat up painfully. "I have healing magic. I could help, if you need it."

The Courier was surprised, but glad. "That would be great, if you could. Arcade, you use the stimpak."

He nodded and extracted the long syringe from the kit, flicking the needle carefully. He then jabbed it into his wrist, wincing as the medication filled his veins, and sat back to let it do its work.

Mia tilted her head in interest. "Fascinating. I suppose it works similarly to potions. Still," she said, raising her gloved hands. "We will have to settle for this for now." Small balls of golden light illuminated the dark cave, as they burst into life above her palms. She stretched her arms out, palms facing the Courier, and let the magic spread outwards.

Alice felt a warmth spread around her body. She looked down as a glow surrounded her, dipping softly into her open wounds like gilded mist. She raised a hand and stared incredulously as the light swirled around it, stitching together a cut across her knuckle.

Finally, the light faded. The Courier realised her injuries had largely healed; bullet holes and cuts gone from her skin, as if they had never been there. Only minor scrapes remained, but she could deal with them.

Mia began to heal herself, and soft light once again filled the small cave.

"So, what are we going to do? We can't exactly take on the Legion by ourselves." Arcade said.

Mia looked at him slowly as she finished healing. "Not by ourselves, no..."

The Courier tilted her head curiously. "Sounds like you have a plan."

The Dragonborn shrugged. "Not much of one. I was simply thinking that, if we somehow got the Imperials on our side, we could overrun Caesar's army."

"Do you think we could? I thought the Imperials were already at war."

Mia stared into the water thoughtfully. "You are correct. However, if we could somehow convince them that this was more important, we may be able to gather a few troops to fight for us."

The Courier's eyes widened as a new thought came to her. "Maybe we could convince the Stormcloaks to help us, too? I know the two groups are at war, but if we could unite them under a common enemy..."

Mia shook her head. "Doubtful. The Stormcloaks are stubborn. They would refuse to work with the Empire, even if it meant endangering their people. Although..."

"Hmm?" The Courier asked.

"They did hold a temporary truce, once. Before I defeated Alduin, they agreed to stop fighting in order for me to stop the return of the dragons. Of course, they soon continued their war."

"That's good news. It means they're willing to compromise. Maybe they'll do it again."

"I do not know. They only stopped after Alduin threatened the very existence of the world. I am not sure they will be willing to stop their fighting just for a human army, no matter how big it is."

"We don't know that." Arcade replied diplomatically. "Maybe we could convince them. Surely, it's worth a go?"

Mia sighed in frustration, but relented. "If you think it is worth trying, we can go to Solitude and Windhelm. They are the main cities of the Imperials and the Stormcloaks, respectively, and house the leaders. Perhaps they will listen. But," she said doubtfully, "I would not recommend getting your hopes up."

After a few minutes of rest, the three stood up. The cave led through a small cavern, and thankfully led to another exit, meaning they did not have to swim back again.

"I guess getting our carriage back is out of the question. The driver scarpered off after we were attacked. Any ideas?" The Courier remarked as they headed back into the light of day.

Mia wrung her hands tiredly. "I am afraid we will have to walk."

"Ah, well. It's not like we're not used to it by now. Where we heading first?"

"You choose. Solitude, or Windhelm?"

"Whatever's closest."

Mia nodded. "Solitude it is, then."


	6. Chapter 6

The sun slowly dipped over the horizon, melting the clear blue of the sky into a rich shade of salmon. The thick formations of cloud gradually thinned to golden streaks, and the snow began to clear. A few stars began to awaken as the day came to an end, and Skyrim's grassy hills became gilded under the dimming light.

The road to Solitude was rough and undefined, eroded from years of traveller's footsteps. Badly maintained signs vaguely pointed out the way to Skyrim's capital city. After finding out a little about the city, the Courier assumed it would be like the equivalent of New Vegas; the bustling, unsleeping metropolis that illuminated the Mojave desert.

"It cannot be far now. I recognise some of the landmarks." Mia remarked, as they traipsed along the path. Far in the distance, a wolf howled; the sound haunting in the quiet of the evening.

"I hope so. What did you say it was like?" The Courier asked tiredly, her feet aching from the long walk.

"Solitude is a beautiful, ancient city, with impressive architecture and history. It is very secure, and its prime location means it is a very wealthy and well connected area. Compared to, say, Riften, it is a fine place."

"So, who are we talking to when we get there?"

"General Tullius. He resides in Castle Dour, at the heart of Solitude. Hopefully he will listen to our concerns."

"He has to." The Courier said, "Unless he wants a full scale invasion on his hands. I mean, we don't even know if the legionaries we saw were all of them. Caesar could have sent other scouts or soldiers out, for all we know."

Mia nodded, "Indeed. I believe we may be able to convince him if we tell him about the scale of the army. Your Stormcloak allegiance idea, however..."

"We'll try. That's all we can do."

* * *

They had just reached the foot of a small bridge as it came into view. A colossal rock face stretched over the lake next to it, which led into the sea. On top of the rock, a city hid in the evening light.

Spires and towers reached upwards into the clouds, visible even from the low height the threesome were at. Solitude towered over the landscape like a watchtower. It was magnificent, a dark silhouette against the sunset. Small lights could be seen from the houses, showing that many residents had still not settled in for the night. Near the city, a tall windmill spun, revealing a small farm outside. Solitude was a welcome sight compared to the untamed wilderness they had been walking through.

"Shall we?" The Dragonborn indicated, and the three began heading towards the large city above them.

The grand gates opened creakily, and Mia headed inside, followed by her companions. The city itself was open and clean, with neat roads and buildings all matching a similar stone aesthetic. Signs swung lazily from metal hooks in the soft evening breeze, and a few stragglers wandered around the city's quiet streets.

"Hmm. Not quite New Vegas." The Courier remarked, observing the peaceful scene before them.

"What is New Vegas like? You speak of it often." Mia said.

Alice crossed her arms thoughtfully. "Imagine Solitude, but add in prostitutes, robots, blasting music, casinos, and neon lights. That's pretty much New Vegas."

"That sounds... intriguing." Mia said doubtfully. "What is this... neon?"

"Eh, don't worry about it. New Vegas ain't exactly perfect, but it's... exciting, I guess."

"That's one way of putting it." Arcade replied.

Mia shook her head, once again dazed by tales of her companions' homeland. She glanced at the darkening sky critically. "Hmm. Shall we stay at the inn for the night? There is no point in heading to the castle now. It is far too late."

"Good idea. I reckon we all could use a rest, anyway." The Courier said affirmatively.

They headed to the closest inn, The Winking Skeever, and entered its wooden entrance.

The inn was cozy and small, and the Courier felt the warmth from the fire-pit soothe the pain and exhaustion from her bones. The three each had a quick meal each, paid for Mia, and rented rooms.

The Courier sat on her room's soft bed, and stared at the cracked ceiling as she thought over the day's chaotic events. It was a mess, a confusing bundle of nonsensical and fantastic people and places. She half expected to wake up in her room at the Lucky 38, but it seemed more unlikely by the minute. This world was far too intense, too incredible, too _brilliant_ to be something she dreamed up. No, this was the real thing, as impossible as it seemed. But it definitely wasn't perfect; the apparent Civil War and presence of murderous dragons made that clear. And if her worst fears were confirmed, the Legion's arrival was a sign things were about to get a lot worse.

* * *

Morning had arrived, evidenced by bright early sunlight peeking in through the Courier's window. Outside, the sounds of a world awakening drifted into the small room.

The Courier met with her two companions, and they set off to Castle Dour. With any luck, they would have an army on their side by the afternoon.

Castle Dour was a stone masterpiece, separated from the rest of Solitude by high grey walls. Red flags fluttered in the wind, showing Solitude's emblem, and in the courtyard outside several men trained; Imperial Legion, by the looks of them. The Courier observed them as she passed; they were hardy and organised, with a higher ranking soldier yelling at them in the background.

In some ways, they reminded her of the NCR, with their coordinated ranks and enthusiastic outlooks. The Stormcloaks, however, didn't sound anything like Caesar's Legion. She supposed they were more like Mr House than anything; fighting for independence, whatever the cost.

The three quickly entered the castle's main entrance, and were greeted by a long corridor, adorned by more crimson banners, which led to a small archway. Past the arch, two people stood around a wooden table, seemingly in deep discussion.

"Ah. He is here, thankfully." Mia said, nodding towards them.

They made their way forwards, the Courier glancing at the impressively high ceiling. The wasteland hasn't seen architecture like this for... centuries, at least. She considered herself lucky to even have the chance to view it.

"Every day more join his cause. Riften, Dawnstar and Winterhold support him."

"It's not a cause. It's a rebellion."

They paused their argument as the three hesitantly entered the room.

General Tullius glanced at them halfheartedly, not paying much interest. He was a serious looking man, with greying hair and impressive red and gold-plated armour. The Courier was almost instantly reminded of Caesar, although this man clearly lacked the arrogance and anger held within her enemy's features. The woman opposite him watched them disapprovingly. She had a stern, sharp face, and the look of a person who would not put up with nonsense. Her ornate red and silver armour indicated her as being a high ranking member of the Imperial Legion.

"Is anyone allowed to just wander around the castle now?" Tullius sighed. "Do you have business here, citizens?"

"General Tullius, we come requesting aid." Mia said, stepping forwards.

He leaned over the table, which the Courier could now see was covered by a frayed map of Skyrim, covered by tiny blue and red flags; she supposed they represented Stormcloak and Imperial owned areas, respectively.

"Doesn't everyone? What is it-" He paused as he recognised the voice, and looked into Mia's waiting face. "Oh, I remember you. From the peace summit on High Hrothgar. You're the Dragonborn, the one who defeated the dragon menace, aren't you? Can we help you?"

"We came to warn you of a threat to Skyrim's people, one that, if left unopposed, could do irreparable damage to the land and her inhabitants. We advise you to set up defensive guards in Imperial holds at once."

Tullius looked doubtful. "Just hold on a minute. What is this supposed threat, exactly? It can't be that bad, if they haven't attacked already." He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Look, Dragonborn, I trust you, but I can't just send out troops on your word."

The Courier sighed in frustration, and decided to speak up. "Look, General, I'm gonna lay my cards on the table. There's an army out there baying for blood, and if you don't hear us out, it ain't just the Stormcloaks you're going to have to be worrying about anymore."

His eyes focused on her, confusedly. "What in Arkay's name are you talking about? What army?"

Mia responded quickly, "Have you not heard? Down near Dawnstar some sort of portal opened, sending forth a viscous army from another land. They are hundreds strong, and very dangerous. We encountered them whilst investigating the area, and they didn't seem too open to negotiations."

He closed his eyes in dread. "Damn. I heard the men talking, but I assumed it was just rumours or superstitious nonsense." He looked at them with a hard stare, his disinterested tone replaced by one of concern. "You saw this army with your own eyes?"

The Courier nodded, "Yeah. Bastards nearly killed us."

The woman across from Tullius suddenly spoke, after minutes of quiet listening. "General Tullius, should we send scouts?"

He hesitated, before replying, "Not yet. I need more information." He turned back to the others. "Are they human? Do you know where they came from?"

The Courier said, "They're human alright, but I wouldn't underestimate them. You'll need a lot of men to stop them." She stifled a dark chuckle. "And yeah, I know where they're from. The same place I come from."

The room settled into uneasy silence, before Tullius replied unsurely, "What? Are you saying you're with them?"

She shook her head violently. "Hell no. Look, it's a long story, but basically I come from a... place far from here. The same place they come from. Where that is ain't important. What is important is that they're known back home for being ruthless, slaving bastards with hundreds of soldiers willing to die for their cause. They burn down villages, enslave citizens, tear apart tribes, crucify their own kind just to send a message, and they never, ever show mercy. They nearly ruined my homeland, and unless we stop them now, I have a bad feeling they'll do the same here."

The silence seemed to echo off the stone walls, and the atmosphere was so thick it could have been sliced with a knife. Eventually, Tullius turned to the woman next to him.

"Legate Rikke, send scouts out to Dawnstar at once, and order troops to prepare. Let's see what we're up against." Rikke nodded and left the room.

The Courier breathed a sigh of relief, and her companions smiled slightly. "There's just one more thing..."

Mia shook her head silently, but the Courier continued. "Would you be interested in making a temporary peace with the Stormcloaks?"

Tullius looked taken aback. "Let's not get too hasty here. I said we'll see what we're up against. I never said we'd stop fighting the traitors."

"Can't you just put it off for a bit? You know, be united under a common enemy?"

"Look, I don't even know if this supposed army is even the threat you make it out to be. I need more information before I even think about stopping the war."

The Courier decided to hedge her bets. "Fair enough. Maybe you'll reconsider after you see them."

"I doubt it. But we'll see."

Their negotiations were interrupted, quite suddenly, by the sound of the castle entrance door bursting open.

"General Tullius! There's an emergency!" A guard ran towards them, panting heavily.

Tullius narrowed his eyes. "What now?"

"There are attackers outside Solitude. There must be at least one hundred. They're trying to break in, and we're holding them off, but only just."

The Courier spun around, a spark of panic piercing her heart. "What?"

Tullius gripped the exhausted guard by the shoulders, and almost shouted, "Who? Are they Stormcloaks?"

"I don't know. They look like soldiers of some sort, but they don't look like Stormcloaks. I saw them wearing red armour. They butchered the guards outside the gate, but we managed to lock the main city entrance."

"_Red?_ Shit." The Courier swore.

Tullius turned to her slowly. "Don't tell me..."

"'Fraid so. The army I told you about wears red."

Tullius immediately stepped backwards. "Right. Where are the rest of the men?"

"Outside, in the training grounds, awaiting orders. Others are protecting the main gate."

"Okay. Let's go." He indicated to the watching trio. "You better come too. You lot seem to know more than anyone else about these attackers."

They quickly headed outside the castle, into the courtyard. A large group of guards and soldiers had gathered, each clutching their weapons in readiness.

"Alright. Solitude is under attack, and we need to defend her at all costs." He declared to the nervously waiting crowd. "The regular city guards will set up the cannons. We'll use these to scatter them, and hopefully send them back down the incline." He paused, then continued, "Archers will shoot from atop the city walls. When they deem the attackers safely apart, we'll open the main gate and the soldiers can overwhelm them with numbers. Remember, we have the element of surprise. They won't be expecting us to open the gate yet."

He turned to the three behind him, and said in a quieter tone, "You three look capable enough. Are you willing to aid Solitude?"

"Of course, General. We'll attack with the ground soldiers." Mia replied. The other two nodded in agreement. The Courier much preferred the idea of fighting the Legion, now that they had an actual chance to win.

"Glad to hear it." He addressed the crowd again, and ordered specifics about placements. Knowing time was of the essence, he finished quickly. "Alright. Positions!" he shouted, and the combined guards and soldiers scrambled to their appointed places.

The trio ran down the cobbled street, flanking the ground soldiers. While they had been inside the castle, the weather had worsened, and now a misty, light rain had begun to fall from the gathered clouds. The tranquil atmosphere of the city had been replaced by one of nervous trepidation, and the streets had been abandoned by citizens ordered to go to their homes.

The soldiers waited with bated breaths as they crowded around the wooden door. They seemed hesitant, but mostly confident. After all, they did have the element of surprise, and were fighting on familiar grounds. The Courier wasn't so sure; she knew the Legion had guns and other strong weaponry, which would prove difficult for the Solitude soldiers to overcome. Her nerves intensified as several loud booms sounded out, signalling the activation of the cannons. Even from where she was standing, she could hear Caesar's Legion; incomprehensible Latin war cries and wordless cries of pain. The grand city gates shook under the force of the invader's attacks, although they weakened as more cannons were fired. Slowly, the shaking desisted.

A yell filled the air. "It's clear! _Go, go!_"

This was it. The gates opened, slowly, and the Solitude soldiers trickled through, weapons held high. The Courier drew her pistol in readiness, and Arcade pulled out his trusted laser gun. Mia drew a sharp, elegant blade, and they began the attack.

They sprinted through the gates. There were a great many soldiers, their armour glinting in the sun as they tackled, stabbed and shot at their opponents. The Legion were evidently surprised by the attack as hoped, as they stood in disorganised ranks with little thought to placement. Still, they recovered quickly, and regained their notorious coordination. The battle became more evenly matched. Blood drenched the worn path, and the air was filled with the deafening sounds of battle. The Courier managed to shoot a legionnaire through the back, who had been slicing at a guard with a sharpened spear. She could tell the guards were confused and afraid of the strange weaponry, and she admired their courage as they continued to fight regardless.

A piercing hot pain suddenly stabbed through her shoulder, causing her to drop her gun. She looked down dazedly, and saw a spear poking through her flesh; the metal end nestled in her flesh, drenched in copper blood. She reached backwards, teeth bared through the pain, and pulled at the handle; red splattering her coat as the metal was wrenched out of her shoulder. She gasped in pain, but fought back a scream and gripped the spear tightly as she turned to her attacker.

He was a Centurion, one of the highest ranking officers of the Legion. His helmet and crimson plumes hid his face, and he wore armour pieced together from fragments of his fallen enemies. He towered above the Courier, and readied another spear.

She quickly ducked and rolled away as it flew past her body. The pain in her shoulder was agonising, but she couldn't get distracted, or she would meet a swift end. Caesar's Centurions were notoriously tough and deadly, and would not hesitate to strike in a moment of weakness. She quickly swung her spear through the air, and it flew in an arc towards him. It speared his knee, and he staggered in pain. Still, he matched up to his feared reputation, and refused to go down easily. He hurled himself forwards, one hand holding a nasty looking razor. He stabbed forwards, aiming towards her left eye, and only missed by an inch as she leapt backwards. The Courier thought on her feet, and reached down. She grasped a handful of dirt and threw it upwards, into her attacker's eyes, and he recoiled in pain. It was a dirty tactic, she knew, but with the Legion you couldn't fight with honour. Honour wasn't of much use when you were lying down dead in a pool of your own blood.

She dived forwards, knocking her incapacitated opponent to the ground. She reached over and grasped her fallen pistol, knees digging into his chest, and with a shaking hand she aimed at his forehead.

His eyes narrowed in fury and he opened his mouth to scream, but it was too late. A bang filled the air, and he stilled.

The Courier wiped the blood from her face and quickly rose to her feet, anticipating another attack.

None came.

It seemed the rest of the legionnaires were being slowly but surely pushed back. She sighed with relief, and pressed a hand up to her damaged shoulder to quell the bleeding, wincing as the burning pain intensified.

She watched as the fight continued, and observed the Legion being gradually overwhelmed. The floor became littered with corpses; both allies and enemies, and spilled blood lapped around her shoes. Her heart rose as she spotted her companions fighting in the distance, thankfully still alive. She ran over to help, struggling with her painful handicap.

The sun continued its slow journey over the cloud-dusted sky, and eventually the victory cheers of the survivors sounded out. The Legion attackers had been beaten, for now. But the Courier knew that this was only the beginning.


	7. Chapter 7

It was well into the evening before the fighting came to an end, and the sun was nervously tiptoeing on the horizon. The clouds had cleared to reveal the peach-tinted sky, and the sounds of the fight quietened to the gentle noises of the evening. It had been an exhausting battle; despite Solitude's eventual victory, heavy losses had been suffered, and the defending troops had been severely weakened. It was pure luck that prevented any civilian casualties, and Solitude's interior managed to remain mercifully untouched by the fighting. Still, the Courier hoped that General Tullius would now see the true threat Caesar's Legion presented.

She shot down a vicious recruit, and approached her two friends as they finished off their final foes. "You both okay?"

"I believe so." Mia said, sheathing her dagger. She dusted off her robes, which were now badly damaged by signs of conflict; bloody streaks and ripped cloth showing that she had not escaped unscathed. A line of blood crossed her forehead, evidently a cut that had gone deeper than she thought.

"Yeah. Probably." Arcade replied. He had not fared much better, and both of her companions seemed relieved the fight was over.

"Good." she said, observing the carnage wrought by the battle. "Let's get the hell out of here." Once again a stabbing burst of pain came from her shoulder. She had crudely bandaged it earlier during a short gap in the fighting, by using a line of cloth ripped from the bottom of her duster. The slowly escaping blood and intense burning sensation indicated that it needed more serious medical attention.

"Mia, you don't happen to have any more of that fancy healing stuff, do you?" She asked through teeth gritted in pain, attempting to tighten her makeshift bandage. "I guess I got pretty banged up."

"Of course. Magic is limitless; you simply need to let it recharge." She raised her blood-stained hands, and coated the Courier in a pool of golden light. The Courier released her shoulder as the light gently caressed the wound.

"Damn, that's useful. Thanks." The light faded, and she noticed a decrease in pain; albeit not a total eradication of it.

"I'm afraid that's all I can do, for now. Magic can only do so much."

Arcade inspected it closely. "It still looks badly injured. I'd recommend keeping that bandage on for a while, and I'll keep a look out for materials we can use to make medicine." He adjusted his glasses unhappily. "It doesn't help that everything here is so... different, though. I don't recognise half the plants we've seen. That being said," he continued, "The abundance of greenery means finding something to help shouldn't be too hard. We'll just need to guess a bit."

They began to head back to Castle Dour, after dealing with their more minor injuries. The path back had been maimed by blood and steel; bodies and spears lined the ground, and the stench of death corrupted the salty sea breeze. Only the dead and stragglers remained; the injured had already been taken in for medical care. Once inside the gates, the Courier noticed how afraid the civilians looked; despite being told it was safe to come out, they were still clearly terrified at the prospect of their homes being invaded.

They once again approached the Castle, hopes renewed in getting their request granted. Now Tullius knew how dangerous Caesar's Legion was, the Courier hoped he would take more decisive action. She decided to once again confront him about her allegiance plan.

* * *

"So, have you changed your mind?"

Tullius leant over the table, deep in thought. After a while, he replied, "I... may consider your plan, if there really are more of those... whoever they are. We were lucky they were unprepared, but I wouldn't like to face an army like that on equal grounds." He sighed and ran a hand through his grey hair. "Of course, this is still assuming Ulfric will accept, and knowing that stubborn Nord that isn't likely. Still, you're welcome to try. Head to Windhelm, and see if he is open to negotiation. Tell him the Imperial Legion is."

"It will be done. Thank you, General." The Dragonborn said graciously.

"Don't thank me yet. We've got a long way to go if this plan is going to work. I don't think it has a snowball's chance in Oblivion, myself. But I'm willing to try." He said seriously. "I just hope Jarl Ulfric will feel the same."

The three headed towards the Castle entrance, and the Courier smiled inwardly. Finally, things were starting to look up.

"That went surprisingly well." Mia remarked amusedly, as they left Castle Dour's courtyard.

"For once." The Courier replied. "And all it took was nearly getting killed."

"A small price to pay. If I am being honest, I cannot believe Tullius actually agreed to this. I understand his first agreement to peace, for we were dealing with _dragons_, but I am surprised he would agree again."

"He lost a lot of good men back there. He probably wants to get this problem out of the way before he loses even more."

"Indeed. So, it appears we are heading to Windhelm."

"Looks that way." The Courier paused, "I gotta say though, I don't know about all this. Even if we do manage to kill off the Legion here, I still don't know how we're gonna get back. If we even can." She watched as a cloud of pale leaves blew past in the wind. "Not even mentioning that the army we met wasn't even half the Legion. Even if we somehow get rid of the ones here, more might come through. And maybe more after that. Maybe the whole damn army will arrive, and then we're really in trouble."

"That is a good point. Perhaps we should cut them off at the source, so no more can pass through."

"Exactly. Maybe, if we find out what caused them, and us, to get here, we can work out how to stop it."

Mia nodded, "I suppose we could try and look for answers on the way to Windhelm. It is quite a way from here."

Arcade replied, "You don't happen to have any ideas, do you?"

She looked upwards thoughtfully. "I have been thinking. Most times, something unusual coming to this land is the result of the same thing." She stared into the starless sky. "Oblivion."

"What in the hell is Oblivion?"

"The realm of the Daedra, and the home of the darkest facets of creation. There are thousands of planes, if not an infinite amount, none of which most people would enjoy visiting."

"So, some sort of strange plane of existence?" Arcade asked, curiously.

"You could put it that way. It is a very hard concept for mortals to comprehend. Even I do not understand it completely." She admitted.

"How would that even work, though? How would that result in us getting here?" The Courier asked blindly. She was out of her depth, and knew it.

"Like I said, it is near impossible to perceive. A powerful Daedric Prince may have brought you here, or perhaps something from your world collided with something in mine."

"What's this 'Daedric' thing?"

"Daedra are otherworldly entities that inhabit Oblivion. Skilled conjurers can summon them to Nirn, for a while. Mortals view them differently between themselves; some fear them, others revere them." She shrugged dismissively. "I do not have an opinion of them, myself. They have their uses, just like any other summon. I am not much of a mage, however, so I do not see much of them."

"And a Daedric Prince?"

"The most powerful of the Daedra, and the most deadly. Some worship them as gods, others... reject them, believing them to be evil."

"And are they?"

Mia shook her head. "Not necessarily. They have very alien concepts of good and evil; you could even argue they are above them altogether. I have met several, none of which actively hindered me."

"Damn. You met gods?" The Courier said, impressed.

"Of a sort."

The Courier shook her head bemusedly. "And here I was just getting used to this place. It's like something crazy is always waiting round the corner."

"I guess you could say the same about the wastelands, huh?" Arcade replied.

"True."

* * *

They left Solitude as the sun finished its daily descent, and the first stars once again began to emerge. The battle remains had largely been cleared up by the city guard, with only some remnants abandoned across the hill. A few weapons were scattered around, often stained with blood, and the path was still badly scarred by trampling feet and scrapes from weapons. The Courier noticed a short spear, in good condition, stuck into the dirt. She saw it was a Legion design; she recognised the markings from her countless encounters with them. It was still slick with blood, and felt heavy as she wrenched it up. Still, it was usable, and, by the looks of things, still as deadly as ever. The Courier smiled, as she looked forwards to giving the Legion a taste of their own medicine.

"Shall we take the carriage, or are we walking?" Mia asked, as they neared the small farm. A farmer could be seen harvesting her leeks, as horses whinnied in the stable. The peaceful scene was a stark contrast to the brutality of the battle earlier in the day.

"I reckon we walk. After all, we still want to look for what got us here, and that'll be easier if we can take a look around."

Arcade added, "Also, I'd like to search for any medicinal herbs we can use. Never can be too careful."

"Damn right." The Courier said, noticing the dull pain in her injured shoulder.

They set off into the night, as the city returned to normal. Behind them, hidden by the shade of a tree, a man lurked. He raised the bow, took a deep breath, and drew an arrow. With trained precision, he aimed at his target.

And then he fired.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

They heard her death before they saw it. A single, short scream, followed by the soft sound of a body hitting the ground.

The Courier, Mia and Arcade turned around and watched in horror as the farmer crumpled, lying in the soil as her blood slowly seeped out. An arrow protruded from her neck.

They ran towards her hurriedly, but were too late; the woman's eyes were glassy and still, and all signs of life had faded from her. She was gone, murdered in cold blood by a hidden assailant.

"Where are you? Stop hiding and _get out here!_" The Courier spun around, searching for the killer.

And then she saw him. Creeping away, using the shadows as a cloak to mask his escape. The Courier wasn't about to let that happen.

"Don't think I don't see you, bastard." She shouted, and drew her pistol. The killer froze in his tracks, his head slowly turning to face her.

He was a tall, intimidating man, even from afar. He was dressed all in black and red, and wore a black hood with a concealing mask. The Courier at once recognised the attire. He was dressed just like Mia.

"Stay where you are!" She ordered, keeping her gun steadily pointed at his back. He took a small step forwards, and the Courier clicked the safety off her pistol; slowly, threateningly, hoping to scare him into complying.

"Turn around."

He did so, and then, in a flash, he was gone. The Courier pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the darkness, but he had vanished into the shadows.

She dodged in anticipation, and was rewarded with a dagger slashing through the empty air beside her. She spun to aim at her attacker, but once again he had disappeared.

"Damn it!"

The fight became a dance of speed over strength. He attacked, she dodged, he disappeared. The Courier became more and more frustrated as she tired from ducking and diving. Arcade attempted to stop his flurried movements with careful laser shots, but they flew into empty space as the man twisted out of the way.

The Courier noticed a figure conspicuously absent. Mia had remained oddly unmoving throughout the fight, almost as if frozen in place. Her conflicted expression seemed to indicate her deciding something.

"Hey, Mia? Feel free to pitch in anytime!" The Courier called out, before feeling a painful blow to her head as the attacker once again leapt towards her. He must have caught her with the hilt of his dagger, and she staggered backwards. The blade sliced forwards, and she shut her eyes as she waited for the pain-

And it never came.

She peeked open her eyes, and stared incredulously. The attacker was there, standing perfectly still, almost as if petrified. The knife remained gripped in his fist, ready to strike, but unmoving. Mia was holding his arm, but not forcefully. The grip was light, and her eyes burning.

The attacker turned his head, his stoic face replaced by one of fear.

"L-Listener?" He whispered, staring into Mia's cold face.

"Go back to the Sanctuary, brother."

Instantly, his hand withdrew, the dagger returning to its sheathe. He bowed his head respectfully, and a little fearfully, before heading off, and disappearing once more into the shadows.

The Courier was too stunned to react, until the assassin was once again gone. She looked from Mia, to the empty space where the attacker had been, and then back to Mia.

Finally, she spluttered, "What in the hell was that?"

For the first time, Mia looked nervous. Slowly, she said, "There is something I have not told you."

The Courier tilted her head confusedly. "That ain't sounding too encouraging."

She glanced away. "I mentioned I worked for a... less respectable organisation, yes?"

The Courier nodded, slowly. "Yeah?"

"I am afraid I did not reveal the whole truth. I am an assassin."

* * *

The Courier and Arcade stared in silence. Quietly, the Courier asked, "Assassin?"

"Yes. I work for an ancient order called the Dark Brotherhood. I am the Listener; essentially, the leader of the group. I listen to the orders of the Night Mother, and relay them to the rest of the order. And then," she paused, "We act on them."

"Night Mother?" Arcade asked.

"A sacred figure for our order. She is the wife of Sithis, the divine deity we worship. She appears to mortals as the corpse of the human she once was, and resides in our Sanctuary. The Night Mother hears the ritual used to request our services, and speaks to me of them."

"So, you kill? For money?" The Courier asked, shocked realisation settling in. It all made sense now. The black and red colours, the stealthy movements, the intimidation; all signs that pointed to this.

"I kill, yes. But not solely for money. I kill because it is what I do. It is what I have always done. Death is my business, and it is one at which I am very skilled. That is all it is."

"Business? You murder people!"

"I do not murder. My clients murder. I am no more guilty than the gun in your hand."

"A gun doesn't have a will."

"An assassin does not either. We are just weapons used for battles, each an arrow from a bow, not the hands which fire them."

The Courier turned as she felt Arcade nudge her gently. "What is it?"

"Can I have a word?" He added quickly, "Alone."

They stepped back, out of earshot.

"She's a murderer, Arcade. A goddamn assassin."

"I know. But we need her."

She crossed her arms, unconvinced.

"She may be an assassin, but she knows her way around this place, and has connections everywhere. She's also helping us, for whatever reason, and we can't forget that. We don't have to like what she does. But we can't afford to lose her."

The Courier closed her eyes defeatedly. "But what if she turns on us?"

"Graviora manent. We've dealt with worse enemies. Besides, she just saved your life. That has to count for something."

After a moment of contemplation, she relented. "Fine, fine. But if she tries to kill someone innocent, things ain't gonna stay so pretty."

They headed back over to the patient woman staring into the mountains, seemingly undisturbed.

"Okay, Mia. So, you're an assassin."

"Indeed. If this troubles you-"

"It won't be a problem. Let's just head to Windhelm."

"Of course."

The Courier shifted uncomfortably. "And, uh, thanks for not letting that guy kill me."

Mia smiled sadly, before saying, "I am sorry you had to find out like this. The Brotherhood is not as bad as you may think. Now, I believe you were searching for more stable care for your injury?"

"Oh, yeah." The Courier replied, surprised. The chaos of the last fight had distracted her from her wound, but she now wistfully noticed the dull stabbing pain hadn't reduced by any noticeable amount.

"I believe that the mountain flowers over there may be useful. They have restorative powers, if mixed with a dash of wheat. Other ingredients may also help; you could mix them into a potion. "

Arcade smiled, as his expertise came into play. "I've got a better idea."

* * *

A few minutes later, it was ready. It appeared to be a normal stimpak; an elongated needle in a rusty container, attached to an odd measuring system with loose wires. It wasn't filled with the usual chemical concoctions, however. This time, it was filled with ingredients from a land of magic.

"Are you sure this is gonna work?"

The Courier asked, nervously. "I mean, it's not like I've never used drugs before, but this looks dodgy as hell."

"Trust me. It'll work. I tried out all the ingredients myself. It wasn't always pleasant, but they did the job." Arcade replied.

"If you say so. I just hope it doesn't kill me." The Courier raised the pack to her damaged shoulder, and slowly inserted the needle into her scarred skin. She winced as the pain intensified, and then gasped as the pain drifted into a dull thumping, and then numbness.

"Goddamn, this is effective."

"It should be. It's got more drugs in it than Freeside. Hopefully it's a bit more sanitary, though."

"Where'd you get the empty pak from, anyway?"

"I kept the one from earlier, and I also have some empties from the Wasteland. I filled them up too, so they should last us a while."

The Courier noticed the numbness reside, and a warm, pleasurable feeling spread out from the needle. She looked down, and noticed the wound had largely patched itself up; skin had sewn together, flesh had reformed back into position, and blood had once again begun to flow around her shoulder properly. The only remnant of the wound was a small, crooked scar.

"Thanks, Arcade. I don't know how you did it, but it worked. And that's good enough for me."

* * *

The evening had settled into the darkness of night, and the glow of Tamriel's two moons illuminated the way. They were an incredible sight; massive, pale orbs which were cloaked by stars, one much larger than the other. The Courier couldn't understand how they could even exist, but they were certainly beautiful.

They passed Hjaalmarch as the moons continued their journey across the sky. Eventually, they came across a small, grim looking town which Mia called Morthal. A thick coat of fog surrounded the town, giving it an ominous look, and putting them off from staying.

As they travelled further East, the air became harsher, and flakes of ice began to descend on the hard ground. The weather worsened to the state where almost a full-blown snowstorm whirled around. The wind howled like a wolf under a full moon, and the Courier felt the snow whipping her face like tiny knives. She wondered how far they had to go, and began to regret choosing to walk.

The path to Windhelm became harder and harder to navigate.

"It's damn cold here. How can you stand it?"

Mia shrugged. "You get accustomed to it, eventually. I come from Morrowind, which is much warmer, but after a while you become used to the snow."

"We don't even get rain out in the Wastes. At least, not enough of it."

"That must be difficult."

The Courier nodded. "It's not a nice place, putting it lightly. It's always hotter than hell, and half the land's untouchable due to radiation."

Mia looked at her questioningly. "If I may ask, why do you wish to go back? You seem to dislike it."

The Courier thought for a moment. "Well, I guess-" She paused suddenly as she noticed something in the distance, and pointed forwards. "Hey, check it out."

Her companions looked past her pointed finger, to their destination.

Not far away, vaguely visible through the heavy white snowfall, was Windhelm. A great city of stone, Windhelm almost seemed to be an extension of the mountain on which it was built. Grey circular walls and and stone buildings created a foreboding atmosphere, not helped by the grim weather. The city was separated from the mainland by a large, snow coated bridge, lined along the sides with flaming torches. The area seemed deserted, save for a few guards dressed in blue cuirasses. Peering over the edge, the Courier could see a dilapidated looking dock, clearly showing signs of disrepair. She could see several blurred figures working below, although they were hard to see through the blizzard.

"Let's get inside. I wouldn't mind getting out of this cold." She remarked, staring at the long pathway to the city.

"Agreed. Although I doubt we will receive a warm welcome." Mia replied, and they walked towards the city gates.

The gates were flanked by burning fire pits, which cast shadows over the rotting wood. They opened slowly, reluctantly, as if even they wanted to keep the threesome out.

The city itself was a stark contrast to Solitude; fitting, perhaps, considering they were the main bases of each sides in the war. Where Solitude was bright, with colourful greenery and airy streets, Windhelm was dark and claustrophobic; thin, narrow streets and alleys giving it a labyrinthine feel. The inhabitants themselves seemed to match the atmosphere of the city perfectly. Most had grim faces, aged from years of harsh weather and difficult work, and the ones that didn't still had downtrodden expressions, almost as if the city was sucking the life from them.

"It is night, and too late for negotiation. We can visit the Palace of the Kings tomorrow morning."

The Courier nodded. "Good plan. I just hope we don't get interrupted by an invasion again."

"Indeed. You two can stay in Candlehearth Hall for the night; I believe I will stay elsewhere."

"Huh? Why?" The Courier asked.

"Windhelm is not kind to people like me. You have not seen the prejudice the Dunmer and Argonians face here, but I can assure you it is highly unpleasant. I would not be welcome in a Stormcloak inn."

"That ain't right. That's like what the ghouls face back home."

"It seems the similarities between are worlds are more numerous than we thought."

The Courier snorted, "Some things never change."

* * *

The inn was large, and surprisingly accommodating compared to its stout exterior.

Paying with the gold Mia had given them, the Courier and Arcade headed to their respective rooms after gulping down a warm meal, and, of course, several bottles of mead. The Courier was glad the alcohol seemed similar enough, although she would have preferred a good whiskey.

Staring into the fireplace, she listened to the bard play a wordless melody on her lute. The flames entranced her, flickering in a way that was almost hypnotic. Black dots danced in front of her eyes, and she began to feel heavy, and strange. A wave of overwhelming exhaustion took over her, and she stood to walk to her room. When she stood up, the air felt thick and consuming, and she had trouble putting one foot in front of another. She dazedly meandered towards her room, as the walls seemed to twist and turn and the floor seemed to move in waves under her tired feet. She steadied herself by gripping hold of the shaking walls, and somehow made it down the stairs, and finally to her room. She took one look at her bed, before collapsing atop of it and falling into a deep sleep.

When she awoke, she was in another world.


	9. Chapter 9

Wings. Bright, fleeting. Red, yellow, green, blue; hundreds of hues, dancing in a ballet of colour.

The Courier dazedly opened her eyes. She felt soft grass beneath her, and the sun on her face. Her head spun, and she lay as if she had slept there. In fact, she did remember falling asleep.

But it sure as hell wasn't _here._

She glanced around her, before sitting up groggily and reaching for her pistol out of habit. The area around her was beautiful, warm and strange, and most definitely not in Windhelm.

She was in a forest. Trees towered above, bursting with lush green leaves, with soft moss climbing up their trunks. Flowers seemed to sprout from every crevice, each flourishing under the plentiful sunlight, and coating the grass with brightly coloured petals. Unrecognisable fungi grew from the ground, and seemed to glow in shades of turquoise. The whole place had an alien, dreamlike quality, and the Courier had to pinch herself to check if she was dreaming.

The sun blazed down cheerfully as she stood up, clutching her gun suspiciously. She noticed a flash of blue flutter past, and noticed in surprise that she recognised it. It was a butterfly. She'd never seen one before, not even in Skyrim. But she knew it from the stories. And it was as lovely as she imagined.

She felt herself relax a little, comforted by the warm, lazy atmosphere. The forest was genuinely beautiful, and seemed to be perfectly safe.

Even so, she still felt a splinter of doubt lodge itself in her heart. She couldn't shake an uncanny feeling there was something off about this place, as if she would turn around and see a shadow lurking in the thicket.

"Arcade? Mia? You there?" She called. No response.

She walked forwards, her feet sinking into the squishy grass. Unable to see any signs of civilisation, she decided to choose a random direction and walk until she found something. The path was open and clear, although she occasionally tripped over outstretched roots. The forest seemed untouched by mankind.

Eventually, she came to a large clearing. In the centre a tree grew, although unlike any she had seen in Skyrim. It was tall and twisted, with a gold coloured dome hanging over the trunk. In fact, it seemed more like a giant mushroom than anything, with a gelatinous look. Deformed spikes pointed upwards from the dome; surprisingly incongruous in the otherwise pleasant landscape.

Searching around, she saw a rocky hill, which she headed towards. Perhaps she would get a better view from higher up.

The view from the top was incredible. It was magnificent; an open forest of colour and oddity, unlike any landscape she had seen. More surprisingly, however, was what lay beyond it. It was a city.

The city was immense in size, and incredible in design. It seemed to be cut into two halves; the half closest to her was mostly made of white and clean brick walls, with burgundy curved roofs. It was quaint and modest looking, despite its grand size, and fitted in well with the colourful landscape. The other half, however, was much different; it was dark and dreary, with dirty, run down buildings topped by drab olive roofs. Beyond the darker half, a forest that matched it stretched out; brown and swampy compared to the brightness of the forest the Courier stood in. The whole island seemed to be split by an invisible border, with one half beautiful and shining, the other ugly and twisted. A tall tower stood out from the rest of the city, directly on the border; half in darkness, half in light. A fire burned brightly from it, letting her know that people still resided there.

In between the two halves of the island, close to the large city, was a massive castle. It was made seemingly of stunning white marble, and its walls were broken apart by impressive arcs. It towered above the city, like an elegant, almost ethereal, watchtower. Spires topped large domes, which stood even higher than the hill on which she stood.

She was startled as a rumbling began to emanate from around her. It was slow, and heavy, like a beast being awoken from a deep sleep. She spun around, searching for the source, but it seemed to come from the very land itself; trees shook leaves from their branches, birds took off into the sky, and the earth quaked under her feet.

A booming noise echoed outwards, alien and deep; a voice, yet not a voice.

And then he spoke.

"Weeeelll,_ look who it is!_ The little messenger from the desert!" The voice exclaimed cheerfully, his accent an exaggerated mix of Scottish and Irish.

"Hello? Where are you?" The Courier asked, glancing around her. She was unnerved; the voice seemed to come from right behind her, yet also from miles away.

"A good question. A brilliant question! You see, I'm here."

The Courier waited for him continue, and replied when he didn't, "And where is here?"

"An even better question! You see, here is here. Here is everywhere. Here is in everyone. And everyone is in here."

The Courier's mouth gaped open and closed wordlessly, before asking, "What? What are you talking about?"

There was a slight pause, before the melodic voice continued undeterred. "What do you think of Mania? It's lovely. Lovely! Although I prefer Dementia myself. Nicer colour scheme, all things considered."

"Uh. Great?"

His laughs punctuated his sentences. "Oh, yes! Great. Great! Anyway, I was hoping you might come visit me in my abode. It's not far from where you are. You can probably see it from atop that hill, in fact!"

Once again, the Courier turned around and looked for the man talking to her. Still, the area seemed deserted, save for herself and the odd shaking of the landscape.

"How can you see me?"

"I can see everything here. And everything everywhere. Considering here is everywhere, that's mighty impressive."

This guy is clearly off his meds, the Courier thought bemusedly.

"Uh, if your 'abode' is the big fancy castle near that city, I can see it. What is this place?"

"Ah, well, if you mean what's ahead of you, that would be New Sheoth. Impressive, isn't it? I built it myself, you know."

"Uh, I guess I'll head down there then."

"Excellent! I'll send Haskill down to meet you. Ah, but It'll be grand! We can have tea and scones and chat about the weather! And we can share some CHEESE!"

The Courier shook her head in exasperation. "Sure, okay, crazy guy. I'll be there."

"Brilliant! Hurry here, or I may have to tear out your eyes and feed them to the butterflies!"

"Okay- wait, what?"

"Oh, I almost forgot. I have a birthday present for you down here! Ta ta!"

Once again, she felt lost listening to his mad rambling.

"...But it's not my birthday." She uttered lamely, but he was gone.

* * *

The earth had stopped rumbling as his laughing voice trailed off, and the Courier headed down the hill towards the front of the gigantic castle.

She wasn't sure trusting this apparent lunatic was a good idea, but she saw no alternative. Perhaps he could tell her more about where she was.

Navigating the strange, colourful forest, she began to wonder where her companions were. She hoped they hadn't been taken to this ridiculous place as well. Although it may be easier to fight their way out if they had.

She shook her head as she tried to think clearly. This place seemed to have an... intoxicating effect, almost as if she was walking through a dream.

Finally, she made it to the edge of the city. It was taller than it appeared on the top of the hill, but she could hear cheery and odd noises drifting from over the walls. What sounded like voices could be heard, although she couldn't make out what they were saying. Walking round the long city walls, she finally made it to the entrance; a large stone and wood gate, ornately designed. She pushed it open apprehensively, and stepped inside.

The city was as beautiful from the inside as it was on the outside; or at least, this half of it was. The streets were cobbled with white stones, and trees with copper leaves decorated the urban landscape. The buildings themselves, mostly houses, were florid and intricate, with curved roofs and thin tall windows. More of the glowing fungi-like plants sprung from patches of grass, emitting sweet smelling spores. Perhaps they were what made the Courier feel so uneasy. As she walked towards the palace, she could see two people loudly arguing; a male and a female, both dark elves. They were oddly dressed, and both had panicked expressions, as if they were afraid of each other. The spoke in raised voices, and became angry, shoving each other backwards violently. As soon as she passed, however, their composures became calm and tranquil, and both acted as if the argument had never taken place. Their movements were strange also, at times stiff and awkward, at other times fluid and slow.

She was crossing a small wooden bridge, admiring the stunning yet aberrant scenery, when she noticed a man approaching. He was a dour, impatient looking man, around middle aged, with a purposeful stride. He wore an eccentric black suit, ringed with red, and the Courier could hear him sigh as he stepped onto the bridge.

"Ah, you must be the one my Lord summoned. I am Haskill, our Lord's Chamberlain. Welcome to Bliss."

"Uh, hey. I'm-"

"Yes, the courier from that horrid other world. A pleasure." He nodded unenthusiastically, before turning away. "Now, let us head to the New Sheoth Palace. Master hates to be kept waiting."

The Courier shrugged helplessly as the man began to lead the way. At least he seemed slightly more sane than most here. Which wasn't saying much.

They moved through the city, and it seemed to pass in a blur. Around every corner was something new, none of which contained any semblance of logic or reason. Eventually, they approached the courtyard of the enormous palace.

Closer up, its scale was even grander than she imagined. They walked for several minutes before even reaching the main body of the palace, the man grumbling the entire way, and it grew more impressive by the minute. Intricate and towering statues of incomprehensible design lined the path, and the walls and floors seemed to shimmer under the bright sunlight. Oddly enough, on either side of the path were two fire-pits; with the fires on the left burning normally with red and orange flames, and the fires on the right flickering with dark turquoise and sparks of green.

Inside the grand palace was a design no less fascinating. It was split, like the rest of the island, in half; with a long carpet rolling across the grey floor, half in burgundy, half in olive. Several sets of stairs led up into different places, more fire-pits lined the edges, again in their strange colours, and more of the luminous mushrooms grew. At the far end of the hall was a large, oddly shaped tree with gnarled, twisted bark. Most notable, however, was what sat before the tree. A large gold throne, half scarlet and half greyish-green. In it, sat the strangest man the Courier had ever set eyes on.

He could have been fifty, or he could have been eighty. His pleasant face seemed ageless, although his grey hair and neat wrinkles gave the suggestion of him being almost ancient. His clothes were both comical and regal, like those of both a jester and a king. They were red on one side, and purple on the other; opposites, and suitable considering the rest of his kingdom. He smiled with a grin that was both charming and horrifying, like that of a charismatic psychopath. His eyes were milky white, as if his irises had been washed away, leaving an impenetrable blankness. Despite this, they carried a terrifying wisdom seen only in victims of unspeakable acts, and their perpetrators. It wasn't hard to guess which one this man was.

"Your Highness, I present... her." Haskill remarked dully, bowing with a distinct lack of interest.

"Thank you, Haskill, that'll be all." The man waved him away carelessly, and Haskill briskly departed. The Courier recognised his accented voice as the one she had heard on the hill. She had expected as much. The alien, unearthly, yet still relatable tone suited him perfectly.

"Ah ha, Little Miss Courier! Nice to finally meet you in person. Care for some squid?" He said, watching her face intently.

She put up a hand firmly, unwilling to deal with any more of this insanity. "No thanks." She lowered her hand, before crossing her arms distrustfully. "Look, I have no idea what the hell is going on, or where I am, or why. I don't know who you are, or how I got here, so please, feel free to enlighten me."

The man laughed, a booming laugh filled with knowing merriment. "Ah, you silly mortals! Get me every time. You see, you know this place. And you know me."

"I don't think so. I'm pretty damned sure I would have remembered you."

"Oh, but you do. Look deep enough, and you'll realise. You all know me, just as I know all of you." He grinned mischievously, his white eyes seeming to glow in excitement. "In every splash of ink on the painter's canvas, I am there. On every curve of a letter from the writer's pen, I am there. On every tiny little detail in the sculptor's masterpiece, I am there. In every fold of your mind, in every crevice and string, I am there. I am creativity, and intuition, and freedom. I am mad. I am madness. And madness is me."

He smiled, a little less wildly, and stood up. Graciously, he bowed so his forehead touched his toes, before rising and taking the Courier's hand.

"I am Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness. Welcome to the Shivering Isles, my little slice of paradise in the planes of Oblivion. A pleasure to meet you, indeed."

The Courier stood still, frozen in shock, as he shook her hand firmly. He dropped it, and she let it fall to her side limply.

A Daedric Prince? She thought dazedly. Mia told us about them. They're gods... but, could that even be possible?

She thought about all of the impossible things she had seen over the past few days, and came to a firm conclusion. As insane as it seemed, anything was possible.

"You're a goddamn god!"

"I'm not so sure about the goddamn part, unless I inadvertently damned myself in the past few millennia. Even so, you're right. I am a god. The god of madness, of the tentacles in dark waters, of the rats in the walls. And I'm one of the nicer Princes. Usually."

The Courier shuddered slightly, but refused to feel afraid. She'd faced worse than a god, right? Well, that's what she told herself.

"So, I'm guessing you're the one who brought me here."

"Nicely deducted! Yes, I brought you here, just as I brought you and the good doctor to Skyrim."

"Is that why?" She asked incredulously. "Is that why we ended up in another world?"

"Yep! I just used a nice little Oblivion gate to pluck you from the ruined wastes and plant you on pretty little Skyrim. An improvement, no?"

She shrugged, overwhelmed. "But why? Why go through the effort of bringing us all the way there?"

"Well, that's where it gets interesting. See, I don't know how much you know about us, but there are plenty of gods like me. Not quite as charming, but you get the idea. Anyway, there's one Prince who really has it in for me. A nasty guy by the name of Jyggalag. You see, a long time ago, something happened here that made me hope he wouldn't bother anyone again. But it looks like he just can't stop messing around and disturbing the natural balance of things."

The Courier tilted her head in confused interest. "What is He the Daedric Prince of?"

Sheogorath gave the impression of rolling his eyes, despite their lack of features. "Order. So you can see why He doesn't like me much. It doesn't help that Him and I have... an estranged history. Anyway, recently, I noticed a bit of oddness occurring in the Planes. I worked out He was planning something. Something big. So, with my excellent deduction skills, I found out He was trying to access another world. Your world."

The Courier stared into his pale eyes. "Earth?"

"Bingo. So, I eventually uncovered His plan. He was going to bring something to Skyrim, to bring order where none could be found." He paused, smiling intently, before saying, "An army."

Her eyes widened in realisation. "You don't mean..."

He chuckled darkly. "What, you thought I brought Caesar's Legion there?" He shook his head violently. "Naw, they're no fun. I HATE it when people take away other's freedoms, and the Legion are damned guilty of a lot of that. Besides, they're far too unlikeable, what with the slaving and the raping and the TERRIBLE dress sense. I mean, have you seen their armour? Hideous!"

He gestured wildly, and the Courier took a small step back nervously.

He eventually shrugged carelessly. "I suppose you can see why Jyggalag likes them. Complete obedience to a leader? Check. Assimilation of independent groups? Check? Stupid hats? Check, check, check."

The Courier stroked her chin thoughtfully. "But why bring them to Skyrim?"

"Well, Nirn is the main base of operations for us Daedra. It's the closest connection we have with the mortals, so it's only logical that most Daedra want lots of power there. More power in the mortal planes means more power overall, and that's always a good thing, right? Therefore, having an ordered mortal army take over a place with a lot of chaos at the moment would kick start Jyggalag's campaign of assimilation; and maybe even eventually bring the whole world to His whims."

The Courier shook her head in amazement. "This is crazy."

"No, that would be me. Jyggalag is much worse."

She looked back to the mad god. "So why bring us here?"

"Well, you fight the Legion, correct?"

"I guess, but why not a more powerful force like the NCR? Why only the two of us?"

He clasped his hands gleefully. "This is the best bit! You see, the NCR are boring. You, however, are not. I've seen the impact you had on the Mojave, and it's very impressive. I mean, you're working on taking over the whole of New Vegas, right? Wow! So, who better than to have someone like you take down my foe's greatest asset?"

"So you brought two people... to fight an army?"

He threw back his head and laughed loudly, his voice echoing in the enormous hall. "No, no! I brought two people... to lead an army! Ha ha!"

The Courier blinked blankly. "I'm sorry, what? To lead an _army?_"

"You heard me!"

"What army? What are you talking about?" She asked helplessly.

"By me, you're slow to catch on, ain't ya? I want you to keep doing what you're doing. Combine the Stormcloaks and the Imperials, and, hey, maybe even the bloody dragons! Pull them together into one huge army, and then you can blow Caesar's fools right out of Skyrim! And it comes, very nicely, with the added bonus of embarrassing Jyggalag. Ha, I'll never let Him hear the end of it!"

"Seriously? That's your plan?" She asked incredulously.

"You've got a better one?"

"We'll, no, but-"

"Then what's the problem?"

"It'll never work! The Legion is so strong, and how are we going to-"

"Aye, you worry too much! Look, I have something for you. To help you on your quest!" Sheogorath reached into his coat pocket, and withdrew a shining marble pistol, sparkling in the multicoloured fire light.

"This here gun is a beauty. I got the idea from looking at that piddly little pistol you use. You could use an upgrade, no?"

He passed the weapon to her proudly. She observed it carefully, and had to admit that it was beautiful. It was intricately designed, carved with curved and mad symbols and marks. The white marble seemed to glow slightly from within, and it felt warm in her hand.

"Thank you. I think." She said.

"Hmm. I think I'll call it... the Wobbajack 2.0! No, no..." He scratched his hair, thinking deeply. "How about... Stanley? No! I know! The Shepherd!" He laughed uproariously. "May it lead you to safety, or to the slaughterhouse!"

She shook her head, choosing not to reply to His asinine remarks. A thought suddenly came to her. "Hey, wait a second. Mind if I ask some questions? This is a lot to take in."

"By all means. I suppose I owe you some answers."

"Well, if you are a god, why'd you need us? Can't you just wave your hand and magic away Caesar's Legion?"

He crossed his arms. "In case you've forgotten, Jyggalag is also a god. He wouldn't let me just get rid of his army, just as I wouldn't let him get rid of you. We're about evenly matched in terms of power, meaning we have to use... alternative methods to settle disputes."

The Courier thought for a moment, before replying, "When Arcade and I went through that portal, or gate, thing, we heard a really distinct sound. It was exactly like a woman crying out in pain. Do you know what that was?"

He shrugged. "God knows. Oh, wait. No I don't." He continued. "Oblivion ain't always sunshine and rainbows. When you passed through, perhaps you flew through a particularly grim Plane. I'll bet it was Molag Bal. Never liked him."

"So you don't know?"

"Not a clue. Gates of Oblivion are never particularly stable."

The Courier finally released that something had been bothering her since first meeting Sheogorath. She asked, "Why wait until now to tell me all this? I've kind of been blundering around in the dark for a while now."

He smiled mischievously, baring his gleaming white teeth. "Well, we have to keep things interesting, don't we?"

And with a wave of his hand, He vanished, leaving behind wispy violet trails in the air. The Courier gasped as the walls of the castle crumbled away, each brick bursting into thousands of bright fluttering butterflies. She closed her eyes as they swarmed towards her; and when she opened them, they were gone.

Nothing remained of that strange world, and as she looked around, she realised she was back in Windhelm. She stood in her little room in Candlehearth Hall, clutching an enchanted pistol, with one hell of a story to tell.


	10. Chapter 10

The air whirled with pale flakes of snow, as the morning light hid behind grey clouds. The city awoke slowly as its citizens began to trail the streets, leaving footprints on the ice, only to be covered by the new snowfall.

The Courier stepped out of the homely inn, the brisk cold sending goosebumps across her skin, and looked towards the Palace of the Kings. Mia and Arcade followed soon after.

"You know, if anyone else were saying this, I'd think they were either lying or insane." Arcade remarked.

Mia said slowly, "Sheogorath. I should have known."

The Courier glanced at her surprisedly. "You know him?"

She shrugged, "Somewhat. I had a brief encounter with him once, involving an insane dead king. It is a long story."

"Sounds it."

"He gave me a weapon. The Wobbajack." She chuckled slightly, "It is too unreliable for me, much like the god himself. Still, there are much worse things to be summoned by."

Arcade looked at the Courier interestedly. "Mind if I see that gun again?"

She tossed it to him, and he held it up to the glow of a fire-pit. The light seemed to swim through it, ducking and swerving around its curves and runes like running water.

"I've never seen anything like this before. It's remarkable. If only the Followers could study this..."

"If we get back, I'll show them. I just hope the damn thing works. My old one's gone missing."

Mia shook her head in exasperation. "That indeed does sound like the work of Sheogorath. He probably destroyed it in a ploy to get you to use his gift."

The Courier took back the gun and holstered it carefully. She could feel its warmth emanating through the rough fabric, and it provided an odd sense of comfort, albeit an uneasy kind.

"The god of madness. Well, that explains all the weird stuff that's been happening."

Mia nodded. "Legend states he created all that is unique and wild in the world, and has a nature that is almost the catalyst of chaos. I will admit to having a difficult time disproving that."

"I'll say. This shit just keeps getting stranger."

Arcade glanced towards their destination, an ominous grey castle dusted by snow. "So, the Palace of the Kings." He added, "Not the most inviting place, is it? Absit omen."

"Most of the places we go aren't exactly inviting. Maybe it's just us, who knows? Let's just head up there." The Courier replied through the shower of snow.

* * *

They fought past the freezing clutches of the snowfall, and walked towards the grand castle. The people they passed avoided their gaze, distrust clear on their faces.

"What's their problem? Is it because of what you said earlier?" The Courier asked in a hushed tone to Mia.

"Indeed. We are strangers here. And I am a dark elf. They approve of neither."

"Christ, they need to cheer up. Things could be a lot worse round here."

"I suppose. But we shouldn't forget that they have suffered loss too. This Civil War had hurt many, and I do not blame them for their discomfort."

"Aye, but still. It's like what happens to the Ghouls back home. Everyone's always picking on them, only because they're uglier than corpses. I guess that scares people, but it's no excuse. Just 'cause you lived through shit doesn't mean you have to be an ass about it."

They approached the castle, climbing up slippery grey steps to reach the entrance. Past the wooden door was an ornate hall, decked in blue, with a long wooden table stretching across it. It was laden with expensive looking silverware and platters, and was covered with exotic dishes the Courier couldn't even recognise. Chandeliers swung from the high ceiling, and blue flags proudly waved their allegiance.

At the far end of the hall was a throne, and in it lounged the figure they had been searching for. Ulfric Stormcloak.

He was a regal looking man, who sat with a relaxed, yet still alert posture. His hair was straw-like with a beard to match, and he wore rich, feathered blue robes which stated firmly his belief of being the true High King. His eyes narrowed as they approached, and the Courier felt a sense of déjà vu. He seemed remarkably similar to Tullius, despite fighting against one him in a long and bloody conflict. Both had the same calm determination in their movements, and the same fire in their eyes. They just fought under different flags. The Courier almost felt amused; it seemed that nothing ever changed. A war is still a war, even when fought with new symbols, and usually both sides are no different. She could see now why Mia refused to get involved.

"Ah, Dragonborn. Has the day come? Have you decided to fight for the side of the just?" Ulfric called out, as he noticed the approaching figure cloaked in black and red. His voice was gravelly, and spoke with a charismatic intensity that the Courier knew would be effective. No wonder this man had so many followers; this was the kind of figure who could convince men to die for him, and it was inflicted in his every word.

"My answer remains the same, as it always will. I will have no place in this war." Mia replied icily.

"I thought it was a long shot. Why are you here, then?"

"I am sure you are aware of the invaders by now, Ulfric. They are on the horizon, thousands strong, and we need all of our power to stop them. We need your army."

He stood up, slowly, meaningfully, and sighed. "I've lost good men to them, and still they come. We barely know anything about them, but they seem able to fight us well enough." He looked at the group critically. "However, we cannot afford to send out troops now. With the war still going, forces are stretched."

"Exactly. Which is why I come with a suggestion. A temporary truce between the Stormcloaks and Imperials."

He looked at her fully, with furrowed eyebrows, and crossed his arms. "Are you seriously suggesting that? I know, Dragonborn, that we had the truce during the dragon incident, but this is very different. Alduin was a risk to all of mankind, a force of pure evil. An army cannot destroy our very souls. A truce will just complicate things further."

"Tullius has agreed."

"What?" He asked, his usual stoic composure temporarily compromised as he heard the surprising news.

"The Imperials have agreed to negotiation." She stared at him intently. "And I believe you should too." She handed him the documents detailing Tullius' agreement.

He recovered quickly, and glanced at the parchment thoughtfully. "So the Imperials are taking this threat seriously? Interesting..."

The Courier saw his plan forming before the words left his mouth. "If you're thinking of joining up with Caesar's Legion, I wouldn't recommend it. The Legion has no allies. They may pretend to, but they always betray them in the end. Trust me. I know them better than damn near anyone."

Ulfric turned to look at her suspiciously. "You know about the invaders?"

"I know enough to say that they sure as hell ain't a threat to ignore. And definitely not one to help."

Ulfric looked back at the papers and read them thoroughly. The hall was silent, save for the sounds of paper rustling and the nervous breathing of his onlookers. Eventually, he looked back to them.

"I see." He said slowly. "I will send a messenger to Tullius. We can hold the negotiations where we held them last time. If, of course, the Greybeards accept."

The Courier let slip a surprised smile. She didn't know where they'd be heading, but it looked like the army she was supposed to be gathering was finally being formed. She only hoped things would stay as steady as they were looking.

"Of course. What time should they be held?" Mia asked.

"Loredas. Four days from now, at noon. That will give Tullius time to receive the message. And time for you to ask the Greybeards for their permission."

"We shall leave immediately. I will send messages as soon as I can, if we can meet there. I hope we can deal with this before it becomes a true threat."

"As do I, Dragonborn."

* * *

The snow had not cleared as they stepped back out on the shadowy streets. The Courier slid her hands into her pockets to protect them from the endless bitter cold, and she watched her breath escape in white steam.

"Looks like we're getting somewhere."

Arcade futilely tried to wipe his glasses free from the snow. "I don't know. Something doesn't seem right. That went too well, and ended too quickly."

She turned to him, annoyed. "We can't doubt our allies now, Arcade. We need them."

Mia rubbed her hands together in the wind. "I believe Arcade is right. I have never trusted Tullius or Ulfric, but especially not the latter. When the time comes, I believe Ulfric may treat the Legion as an asset, rather than a threat."

"He'd be a fool to do so." Arcade replied, "But perhaps that won't stop him."

The Courier shook her head tiredly. "Look, we can't know anything yet. If what you're thinking is right, we're gonna have a problem. But I don't think we can do anything about it right now. We better just head to this meeting place, if it's far, and work out a plan on the way. Mia?"

"Ah, High Hrothgar. Indeed, it is far."

"What do you know about it?"

"I have visited it few times, but every time has been life changing. High Hrothgar is a tranquil sanctuary, where the Greybeards reside. They are peaceful men of immense power, who wield the power of the Thu'um, like myself. They taught me much about being Dragonborn, and were instrumental in defeating Alduin." She continued, "High Hrothgaar is the place were the negotiations for the last truce were held. Hopefully they will accept us again."

"Me too. So, where is it?"

"Atop the Throat of the World. The highest mountain in Skyrim; and perhaps, Nirn itself."

"Ah. Brilliant." The Courier replied darkly. "It can never be just down the road, can it?"

They began to head back towards the entrance gate of Windhelm, struggling as the weather worsened. And as they walked, they remained completely unaware of the man watching them from the shadows, dressed in the scarlet red of Caesar's Legion.


	11. Chapter 11

The beating of drums spread through the early afternoon, organised and methodical, each thump resonating in the air. Fires crackled as their flames reached upwards, and the clashing of wood and steel echoed across the village.

This was Caesar's Legion's new base, buried within the burnt ruins of Helgen. It stood with all of the strength present in their old fort, and its inhabitants acted with the same brutal ferocity. The bandits squatting in the ruins before had been wiped out in minutes, and the town had been reformed; buildings repaired, tents set up, and training had continued as it had in the Mojave. The Legion was well known for its frightening efficiency, and its leader had not let their unusual circumstances change that.

Caesar glared at the nervous young Legionnaire before him, his wrinkled face set into a deep scowl. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. The Legionnaire squirmed under his death glare.

"So, they're gathering an army." Caesar said flatly.

The man replied quietly, "Y-yes, Caesar."

"Against us."

"They are joining together both the Stormcloaks and the Imperial Legion. Somehow, she convinced them."

Caesar looked back up, swallowing back his anger. The Legionnaire scout quickly spoke before he could reply. "However, another scout listened on a conversation between the three profligates. They have... _doubts_."

Caesar raised an eyebrow. "Doubts?"

"Apparently, they're suspicious of the Stormcloaks. They think may not be entirely trustworthy, and that their negotiations may not go as well as they hoped. In short, they think Ulfric may betray them."

Caesar stared at the low roof of the tent thoughtfully.

_A dagger in the back could very well be what brings this little war to its knees, before it goes too far. If these Stormcloaks are willing to betray the Courier and the rest of her army..._

He smiled.

_Then we can strike the killing blow._

He stood up slowly, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head, which he was very much used to by now. He stepped forwards, and the scout stepped out of the way respectfully, and both left the large cloth tent.

The air here burned like the air in the Mojave, biting and fierce; only this time freezing rather than boiling. It made little difference as it sunk deep into your skin, somehow scorching despite its icy chill. The wasteland never saw winter, not unless you counted the odd fall of radioactive snow, and so the new climate was yet another obstacle for the Legion to overcome. But it could, and would, be done.

Stepping outside his tent, Caesar observed his budding empire.

The takeover of this husk of a town was only the beginning. Helgen was a suitable enough substitute for the Fort, although it lacked the ideal military placement the former base held. It was also much smaller, and so required expansion to properly accommodate the hundreds of soldiers and slaves. Still, this land seemed worthy of Legion rule; although Caesar supposed all lands were, once his army was finished with them.

The crucifixes had been set up before too long, acting as dark silhouettes against the blue of the sky. There were dozens, lining the walls of the village like macabre decorations, each holding a suffering profligate crying out in agony. Caesar always did enjoy the sight of the crosses, as ugly as they may be. They warned the world of the death the Legion would give it, if it tried to fight them. Crucifixion was brutal, but he was damned if it wasn't effective. And now this new world knew that also.

He knew very little about why he was here, nor what caused his whole army to join him, but he found himself caring only passingly. This was a chance to begin again, to build a new kingdom and create his own Empire, just as in the days of old. He wasn't going to risk losing this opportunity out of simple curiosity. His people deserved it, and to bring order to a place of chaos was a noble cause. It was difficult for others to see it, but he was certain they'd understand in the end. Whether they liked it or not.

He watched as a line of slaves, overburdened with heavy bags and sacks, painfully limped into camp. The slaves gathered from the nearby town of Riverwood were hardy and resilient, although many had refused to submit and had to be executed as an example. But the town surrendered eventually, as they all did.

The future of the Legion was bright, although tainted by a splash of darkness on the horizon. The Courier and her prospective army were becoming a genuine threat, although he'd never admit it out loud. He'd seen the strength of the Nords and inhabitants of Skyrim, and knew that a combined army of them would be formidable. Even his Legion would struggle to survive a war like that.

Caesar walked towards a small wooden building with his head held high and a stoic expression, keeping up appearances to ensure his authority was respected. If he couldn't show weakness to his enemies, he couldn't show it to his allies. He entered silently, and adjusted his power fist with a quiet turning of complex mechanical gears and dials. The room was abandoned, as he expected it to be, and he sat down at the impeccably neat writing desk.

Yes, their enemies were getting stronger by the day. But Caesar wasn't one to accept defeat. The Stormcloaks were the loose thread in their little set up, just needing a slight tug before the whole thing became unravelled. Caesar decided to pull that thread with pen and paper, and hunched over the desk, writing the letter that could win the war, before it even started.


	12. Chapter 12

"Seriously... I... goddamn... hate... snow." The Courier panted, slipping on the icy stones that passed as stairs.

The Seven Thousand Steps were not an easy challenge to face; having to climb thousands of cold, slippery stairs, fighting bitter wind and snowfall, and being wary of vicious beasts that roamed the mountainside, searching for their next meal.

"So... you... have... said." Mia replied tiredly. "Many... times."

They stopped at the top of the particularly gruelling incline, attempting to catch their breaths. The high altitude make it difficult to breathe properly, with the intensely low temperatures only making it worse. Thankfully, the snow had begun to lessen, eventually clearing to reveal the magnificent view below them.

The sight almost took their breaths away. The entirety of Skyrim was laid out before them; every wooden village, every curving river, every rocky mountain and hill. It seemed more like a model world rather than an actual province, like the work of a tireless toymaker. Lights illuminated the cities like stars, and in the distance, the soaring figure of a grey dragon dipped under the clouds. Being so far away from it all gave them a sense of detachment, as if the world under them was a million miles away.

The Courier stared in awe at the sight. "Damn, that's a helluva view. Never seen anything quite like that."

The Courier stuffed her stiff hands into her pockets in a vain attempt to bring warmth to them.

"You said you climbed this before?" She questioned, turning to Mia.

"A few times. Mostly during the dragon crisis. I have not visited it in a long while, but it never fails to impress."

"Who were those people back there, praying near those stone things?"

"They were likely pilgrims. The Throat of the World is considered sacred by many. The Nords believe Kyne created mortals on this mountain, when the sky blew breath onto the land."

Arcade looked at her in interest. "I suppose this 'Kyne' is some sort of religious figure."

Mia nodded, "The goddess of storm, also known as Kynareth."

The Courier replied jokingly, "You have too many gods. I lost count ages ago, and I've even met one."

Mia chuckled lightly. "I suppose your world has few of them?"

The Courier shrugged. "Depends on who you ask, I guess. Some believe we have a higher power or something, some don't."

"Our worlds are so different. Earth sounds... so strange." She said thoughtfully, "If possible, I would like to see your world, if only for a short while."

The Courier shook her head, smiling sadly. "Trust me, you ain't missing out on much. It's nothing but ruins."

She glanced at the looming grey clouds. "I think my hands are about to fall off. Let's keep moving."

Arcade chuckled, "Unless the plan is to get frozen solid up here, I concur."

* * *

High Hrothgar, despite its sacred reputation, still held an ominous appearance; dull, dark stone walls glared at the mountain below it, corroded from years of abuse from the snow, yet still standing strong. It seemed more like a fort than anything, cold and unwelcoming, with no sign of life outside it. Two curved staircases climbed up from the mountainside into the temple, the only part of the design that didn't seem built to intimidate.

"Alright, let's get in there." The Courier announced, eager to get shelter from the cold. "Anything we need to know?"

"I would not try talking to any of the Greybeards, except for Arngeir. They are sworn to silence, due to the destructive power of their Thu'um."

The Courier was impressed. "Their voices are that powerful?"

"One whisper from them can shake the very world to its core."

"Damn. You'd think a power like that would be exploited."

Mia shook her head. "The Greybeards have trained for many years to get their power. They follow a philosophy that rejects exploiting their voice for self interest."

"That's probably for the better, then. Who knows what they could do otherwise?"

"Indeed. Apart from that, I believe you will be fine."

The three climbed the curving staircase, hurriedly approaching the temple. The ancient door groaned loudly as Mia pushed it open, disrupting the meditative silence of the hall.

The temple was as solemn inside as it was outside. Its architecture was strong and grey, made of heavy stone slabs, and all seemed built to last. Decoration was sparse, barring several simple windows. A few flaming candles stood on tall stands, casting gloomy shadows over the floor. Faint mist shrouded the cold air, giving a sense of abandonment despite the quiet priests praying around the hall.

As she entered, the Courier felt a sense of age resonating from the building itself; the very walls and floors seemed ancient, like the temple had been around since the dawn of time. She began to say something, but the quiet atmosphere of sacredness kept her in silence.

Mia led the way forwards, and a couple of the men raised their heads as they passed. They all seemed very old, cloaked in dark grey, hooded robes with long, ragged beards. They bowed their heads in respect as the three passed them.

One of the men glanced over to them, and walked over as he recognised their lead. His elderly face stayed set in deep thoughtfulness, and his robes trailed along the stone floor as he neared. He gave across an impression of wisdom, as ancient and mysterious as the temple itself.

"Dragonborn. It has been a long time. To what do we owe this honour?" His voice, although quiet, seemed to echo around the silent hall.

"Greetings, Arngeir." Mia replied. "The honour is mine." She paused, "But I am afraid this is not a simple visit. We have come to ask a favour of you."

"Oh? You know we are always willing to assist, Dragonborn."

Mia shifted uncomfortably. "This request... you may not be pleased with it."

He stared at her steadily. "And what may this request be?"

"I am not sure if you are aware of the rising threat in Skyrim at the moment. A great foreign army is attacking, and we need all of Skyrim's sons and daughters to fight against them. Of course, this will not work if they continue to fight each other in this civil war. So we ask that you give permission to hold peace talks once again, in High Hrothgar."

Arngeir stared at her seriously. "Dragonborn, you know as well as I do that the Greybeards do not involve themselves in politics. The meeting held earlier was only allowed as it involved the matter of stopping Alduin."

"I understand, but this sanctuary is the only neutral ground available. This army poses an incredible risk to the people of Skyrim, and thousands will die if we cannot achieve at least temporary peace between the warring factions."

"I am sorry, Dragonborn, but this is a holy place. High Hrothgar was made for the worship of the gods and the training of the Voice, not for petty wars. It cannot be exploited to further political ends."

The Courier frowned frustratedly at his words. "Look, can't you just overlook it this once? People are dying!"

He shook his head firmly. "I am sorry, no. High Hrothgar is a place of peace."

"Then let it be a place of peace! They're not coming here to discuss launching atomic bombs or something. They'll be coming here to discuss a potential peace. Surely, that's not so bad?"

He glanced between their staring eyes, slowly shaking his head.

Mia said quietly. "The dragons enslaved mankind many years ago. Your leader himself helped stop them. This new army... they would enslave us once more. Either that, or simply kill us. But we can stop them. We_ have_ to. We just need your help."

Arngeir closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "So be it, then. You may hold your meeting here. But know this," he opened his grey eyes and stared into Mia's. "I do this only because you are Dragonborn, and we are sworn to serve you. Please ensure this negotiation does not lead to yet more conflict."

"Thank you, Arngeir. We will try to see that peace is achieved."

He nodded reluctantly, clearly dissatisfied. Mia turned quickly to the exit and walked towards it, the other two shuffled after her, feeling out of place; figures of violence in a temple of serenity.

Brisk winds whirled across the mountaintop, as the sun peaked out from behind white clouds, its light reflected on the untouched snow. The Courier felt refreshed by the sudden burst of coldness, compared to the dreary thickness inside the temple.

She turned to the others. "Well, that was awkward."

"Perhaps, but we have what we need." Mia replied.

Arcade nodded. "I suppose we should send a message to the leaders, then. Wouldn't want them to think we've forgotten about them."

A new voice came from behind them, causing them to jump in surprise. "That would be uncomfortable, wouldn't it?"

The three spun to face the owner of the quiet voice. The Courier's eyes hardened as she saw him.

Vulpes Inculta.

He stood with a cold face, his eyes hidden behind black shades. He wore a mutilated fox's head as a hat, a macabre decoration intended to strike fear into onlookers. Dressed in the usual blood red of the Legion, he was flanked by three stoic veterans wielding rifles.

"Oh. It's you." She said flatly.

"I've been waiting a long time for this, Courier. Too long. You have opposed Caesar, and must pay the price."

She silently drew her gleaming pistol.

His lips curled to show bared teeth. "I should have had you executed in Nipton. Lashed to a cross, where profligates like you belong."

She spat at him in fury, feeling a small satisfaction as his smug expression faded slightly. She growled, "I wish I'd killed you back then."

He grinned like a cat toying with a mouse, regaining his confidence. "You would have gotten slaughtered like the rest of the vermin there, and don't bother denying it. You were a lone courier with a Varmint rifle, and I had an entire army of Legionaries. You were smart not to fight me. It's a shame you didn't save some of that wisdom for now."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not just a courier anymore, and I'm not alone. You'll die today, Inculta."

"Hah! Brutum fulmen. Empty threats and arrogance. You stand no more chance killing me now than you did all that time ago."

The Courier gripped her pistol tightly, her hands slick with sweat. "I can't wait to see the Legion in flames. And it _will_ be in flames, no matter how hard you try to resist."

He laughed again in that infuriating way. "That's just not going to happen. You see, we know about your army. And we know every single part of your plan. Your death will simply be the beginning. Cut the head off the snake, and the body dies."

"You're too late. Within a few days the army will be ready, and Caesar's head will be on a pike. Too bad you won't be around to see it."

He shook his head in mock sadness. "You know, the Legion could have used someone like you. Had you served Caesar, you could have had the Mojave, and then, Skyrim."

She laughed shortly. "And then wear a slave collar for the rest of my life? No, thanks."

He sighed. "What a shame. It would have suited you."

He raised an authoritative hand, and the veterans immediately aimed their rifles at the three. The firing of the guns resonated down the mountainside, disrupting the previously tranquil atmosphere. Bullets slammed into the ground where they once stood, kicking up clouds of snow.

Mia regained her footing and flicked her wrist, drawing her dagger, before diving into darkness and reappearing for a stealth attack on one of the veterans. She raised the blade to his neck, but was stopped from delivering the killing blow by his hand lashing round and landing a rough blow on her chin. She staggered backwards, before quickly rolling away from him as he drew a spear and launched it at her. She uncurled and sliced low at him, drawing blood on his shins and forcing him to his knees. She panted painfully as a bullet from another attacker thudded into her thigh, but before he could shoot again he was disrupted by a glowing green blast of plasma from Arcade's pistol bursting into his back.

The Courier scrambled to her feet from her hasty dive, tripping over stone but quickly regaining her fighting stance. She glanced at her companions, who struggled with two of the veterans. She hurriedly swung her pistol to point at the closest veteran, and pulled the trigger.

With a high pitched whirring and howling, multicoloured sparks and spectrums shot from the pistol like an impromptu firework show. The veteran froze, his eyes wide in surprise as the colours melded together and slammed into his chest. He was knocked backwards, but caught himself before he fell entirely, and aimed his rifle with bewildered anger.

The Courier grunted as a bullet grazed her cheek, leaving a line of burnt skin. She leapt to the side, dodging several more bullets, and fired her strange gun again.

This time, the pistol fired with the deafening bang of a small explosion, and the unfortunate target had a second to gawp before his demise. In an almost delicate manner, his body parts slowly disintegrated into a fine glittering powder, gathering into a pile on the snow. Several golden coins rolled out from the dust, oddly followed by a large wheel of cheese.

The mountain was silent as the fighters gawped at the fresh ashes.

Vulpes Inculta raised his hands in bewilderment, his usual smooth manner replaced by a look of shock. He spluttered, "How on... what the... how did you do that?"

The Courier quietly muttered, "I have no fucking idea."

He shook his head hopelessly, before roaring to his men "Kill them! Kill them all!"

Inculta glared at the Courier, and drew a long, blood-stained spear from its sheath. They slowly circled each other, each studying the other's movements like predators with their prey. In a moment, Inculta dived forwards, clutching the spear with both hands as he stabbed at her stomach. She couldn't quite dodge in time as the spear sliced through the bitter air, and cried out as the steel pierced the left side of her waist, the pain biting and sharp. She yanked the spear out of her roughly, wincing as the pain intensified, and wildly swung her pistol at him, managing to catch him on the side of the head. His head was knocked to the side, but he recovered quickly. Ignoring the line of blood trickling down his face, he knocked her to the ground with the blunt, wooden edge of the spear. She fell flat into the snow, ears ringing and eyes watering, and grunted when Inculta dug his boot into her stomach. Her pistol scattered to the side, out of reach.

He stamped his foot into her stomach, and the breath rolled away from her, leaving her painfully winded.

"Veni!" He slammed his foot into her stomach.

"Vidi!" He kicked her chin with the tip of his boot.

"Vici!" He shouted manically as he stamped on her again, gripping the spear tightly.

He stopped his beating, and held the spear above her, ready to bury it into her neck. He smiled with sadistic glee, and the Courier knew death was standing over her, waiting.

As he lifted it, the Courier felt her hand be oddly drawn to her pocket, as if moving on its own. Her hand brushed warm marble, and fastened around her pistol. With no time to think about it, she wrenched it from her pocket, and desperately pulled the trigger as the weapon aimed at her attacker's chest. A burst of icy air threw him off her like a cannon, and his spear was flung into the air, disappearing from sight over the rocky mountain edge.

She staggered to her feet, clutching her injured side as the blood seeped through her long coat. Everything hurt like hell, but she knew that it wasn't over yet.

Inculta hadn't gotten to be Leader of the Frumentarii without reason. He shook off the attack with bared teeth, fire in his usually cold eyes, and launched himself to his feet. He sprinted at the woman with astonishing speed, and leapt onto her; knocking her down a snow covered ridge, and tumbling down in a tangle of bloody limbs.

He gripped her neck viciously, squeezing with both hands. She began to choke and splutter as the air was cut off from her. Ignoring the black dots swimming in front of her watery eyes, she used all of her strength to fling herself sideways, rolling so she was on top of him. She raised a clutched fist and landed a rough punch on the side of his head, causing a black bruise to appear.

He swiftly reached up with both hands and dug his thumbs into her eyes, and she cried out as he attempted to crush them with his nails. She gripped the sides of his beastly helmet, violently lifting it up and slamming his head into the rock beneath it.

Panting desperately, a memory struck her.

_The battle on a hill, outside a city. Blood stained grass, with metal and wood piercing the ground._

She reached down into her boot with one hand, holding down Inculta with the other. Her hand gripped indented wood, and she drew it slowly, pulling it into the open.

It was the same spear she had found on the battlefield outside Solitude; the abandoned Legion weapon buried in the dirt, standing like a primitive grave. She had almost forgotten about it.

But not quite.

Inculta stared at the spear emotionlessly, his eyes suddenly settling, and becoming cold and calm. He knew it was over.

"Kill me, then, and be done with it. I may die, but a thousand more still live."

She said quietly, "I have a thousand more to kill, then."

He laughed humourlessly.

"Nos morituri te salutamus." He spat mockingly, and closed his eyes.

Her eyes hardened, and her face set. And she did what she had been wanting to do for a _very_ long time.

Her hand flew down, and the spear impaled him cleanly through the neck, right up to the hilt. He shuddered as blood bubbled around the incision, and stilled as the steel was wrenched out.

His body lay unmoving in the white snow, as it slowly turned to red.

The Courier shakily rose from him, staring at her blood soaked hands. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and slowly turned to face Arcade. Mia stood silently behind him, eyes focused on the dead man. Behind them, the corpses of the veterans lay scattered across the mountainside.

"You okay?" Arcade asked softly.

She nodded slowly, but doubtfully.

Her gaze turned to the notched spear, now dripping with scarlet. She tightened her grasp and stepped backwards, before thrusting it into the snow in front of the dead body. It stood in the ground once more, like a blood-drenched pillar for the fallen. But it wasn't a sign of respect; quite the opposite, in fact. It was a sign of a bloody, grisly defeat, placed by the victors.

"Let's go." She murmured, turning to face the stairs dotting the mountain.

"Right." He watched her worriedly, before following suit and beginning the long trek down the Throat of the World.

* * *

In the unearthly silence of the mountain, the Courier's voice seemed booming in comparison.

"Back there, Inculta said something I didn't understand. In Latin, I think. Did you hear?"

Arcade glanced at her, before nodding thoughtfully.

"What'd he say?"

"'Nos morituri te salutamus.'" He repeated the man's last words slowly, eyes fixed on the grey stairs.

She raised an eyebrow, and he looked at her meaningfully.

"'We who are about to die salute you.'"


	13. Chapter 13

The Courier and her companions trudged along the winding path in thoughtful silence. The bright light of the daytime had faded into the peaceful auburn of evening, the harsh winds giving way to a soft breeze. The Courier tapped at her Pip-Boy aimlessly, noting that the map had slowly filled itself over her travels. It showed an orange, pixelated display of the large province, the towns and cities represented by small squares.

"You reckon those messengers we sent will get there in time?" She asked, staring at the device. The province couldn't have been much larger than the Mojave, but their already long paths were often exacerbated by having to cross the frequent hills and mountains the desert lacked.

"Undoubtedly." Mia assured her, "The couriers in Skyrim are tenacious."

"You should meet the ones in the Mojave." She smiled. "Where exactly are we heading, again?"

Mia glanced at the darkening sky. "We still have two days until the meeting. I thought it might be useful to scout out around Helgen. I have heard reports of Legion activity over there."

"Helgen? I think you mentioned that. Some kind of city, right?"

"It used to be. It was destroyed by the first dragon attack, and never recovered." She shook her head sadly. "It was not a pleasant sight."

Arcade looked surprised. "You were there?"

"It was just after I arrived in Skyrim from my homeland of Morrowind. It was where my execution was to be held." She finished before the Courier could bemusedly speak up, "An unjust execution, might I add. They believed I was a Stormcloak, as I was caught up in an Imperial ambush."

"That's some bad luck." The Courier said.

Mia nodded, "You could say that. By some strange turn of events, Alduin appeared just before I was executed. He rained destruction on the city, and I managed to escape in the ensuing chaos."

The other woman laughed. "Shot himself in the foot there, huh?"

Mia let out a rare smile. "Indeed."

Arcade glanced worriedly at the Courier's slight limp. "How are you feeling now?"

She shrugged. "It looks worse than it is. Hurts still, but I reckon it'll be fine. The mixture of Stimpaks and healing magic is pretty strong."

"Good." He said lightly, "You really need to stop getting stabbed by spears, though."

She grinned. "I'll try."

Mia pointed ahead suddenly. "Ah, there it is."

* * *

Not far away, a large city could be seen, guarded by a wooden gate. It consisted of strong stone and oak buildings, although signs of disrepair crept through; a cracked wall, a burnt roof, a hastily fixed barrier to keep out invaders.

The place seemed abandoned. No villagers walked outside, no children ran or dogs barked. The only signs of life were that of thick, billowing pillars of smoke from deep inside the city, and the distant beating of heavy drums.

The three travellers ducked behind a crooked rock formation, peering at the ghostly city.

"What are those structures?" Mia asked quietly, pointing at several sharp shapes outside the city's rim.

"I don't-" The Courier began, and then looked closer. "Oh, hell."

"What? What is it?" Arcade asked nervously.

She shook her head in disgust. "It's just like back in the Mojave. Crosses."

"Crosses?" Mia said unsurely.

"Crucifixes. They crucify people, leave them outside to suffer and die. Then they leave the corpses as a warning." She spat. "Fuckin' animals."

Mia stared at the crosses silently. Eventually, she said, "That is... barbaric. They are no different from common bandits."

"Come on, let's get closer. Watch out for lookouts, though. Bastards' got good eyes."

They crept forwards, dodging from natural cover to cover. Getting closer, the Courier could see the crosses more clearly; hulking large structures, made from chopped oak trees. The ones back home had been improvised using old telephone poles, but it seemed that the Legion had wasted no time in using the resources Skyrim offered. Dried blood was splattered across them, dark from age, and the captives could be heard weakly crying out, for either rescue or death.

Nearly all of the crucifixes had a person on them, strapped by their wrists and ankles to the wooden planks. Men, women; the Legion didn't care which. They were sending a message, and they were doing it _well._

"This is fucked up. We've gotta help them." The Courier murmured restlessly.

Mia glanced around the spiked wooden gate, her eyes focusing on a nearby crow's nest, from which the edge of a sniper rifle poked out.

"There's a guard up there." She said quietly. "We'd be caught for sure."

The Courier twitched her dirty fingers along the edge of her gun. "You're good at this sneaking thing. Can't you do something?"

Mia stared doubtfully at the crosses. "I don't think so. There are dozens of them, and this is just the front. Sithis knows how many there are in total. I am afraid that we'll have to leave them."

The Courier looked at her defiantly. "They'll die."

"If we go out there, so will we. We cannot afford to help every struggling soul, Courier. This is war."

She retorted angrily, "War my ass! These are people! It's a risk we should take!"

"Not if it costs us our lives. You need to see the large picture; if we die, there will be no one to lead the armies to victory. Thousands more will perish. Sometimes, sacrifices are necessary."

"Maybe we can do something! Make a distraction, get a couple out, _something!_"

"We do not have time for this."

The Courier crossed her arms sharply, her eyes flaming in fury. "Leaving them here would be murder, and I ain't no murderer. Even if you are."

Mia narrowed her eyes coldly. "I am not a murderer. I am an assassin. There is a difference."

The Courier laughed humourlessly, "Oh, please, enlighten us!"

"The latter kills for business. The former kills because they want to." She glared at the other woman. "Be glad I am not the former."

The Courier snapped back, "You think you scare me?"

Arcade interjected, "Everyone, please, calm down! You're being too loud! You are going to attract every legionnaire in Skyrim at this rate, and trust me, we really do not want that. Please, be rational."

Mia ignored his desperate tone, glaring at the fuming woman. "If you are not afraid of me, you are a bigger fool than you look."

"You think you're such a tough bitch, don't you? Like you're this hardass assassin who doesn't give a shit about anybody. But you know what? That doesn't make you a badass. That just makes you a damned _psychopath_."

Mia gripped her dagger tightly, her knuckles turning white. "Do not cross me, girl. I can make your life a living nightmare."

"_Girl?_ I'm the same age as you!"

"Physically, perhaps. Mentally, you are more suited to a five year old throwing a tantrum."

Their voices increased in volume, their infuriated insults and arguments echoing into the crisp evening air. Arcade clutched his forehead, staring frantically at the city's gates.

"Be quiet! You'll get us caught!"

"Piss off, Mia. You couldn't take me in a fight."

"You arrogant fool. I have dozens of assassins just waiting for my call; one word from me, and you will be dead."

She spat, "Yeah, but one bullet from me, and you'll be the same."

"Humph. You do not think about the consequences of your actions whatsoever, do you? You are an impulsive, overly emotional fool, and that is what will be your downfall."

Arcade cut in once again, "This is ridiculous! You're going to get us all killed!"

The Courier shoved Mia back by her shoulders, "Your downfall is the fact you try so hard to be such a cold, stoic badass that it ends up costing you your humanity. How many lives have you ended just for money? How many?"

"I gave them good deaths."

"There's no such thing. You're either alive, or you're dead. There's no glory in whether your heart's beating or not."

"You know nothing of our world! Our gods place value on our deaths. Go back to your own world, with your own heretical rules. Ruins would suit a ruined person."

Arcade inched between them, glancing from incensed face to face. "Is now _really_ the time for a religious debate?"

"Your god or whatever is a bastard. I guess you make a fitting pawn in his game, then."

"Go to Oblivion, _Courier_."

"Go to hell,_ Dragonborn_."

"_Shut the fuck up!_" Arcade shouted hoarsely.

* * *

Then a sound came from behind their makeshift cover, which ended the fight in an instant. Chills danced down the Courier's spine, her boiling anger melting to simmering dread.

"You really should have listened to your friend."

She gripped her pistol as her companions readied their weapons, slowly rising to their feet.

"Alright, I don't know-" She broke off shortly. "Oh, shit."

Before them, with weapons of steel and faces to match, stretched half the army of Caesar, decked in blood red.

Legate Lanius towered in front of them, his face shielded by an ornate, golden monstrosity of a mask; horns and crimson plumage giving it the appearance of a beast from ancient myths. The blade he held was as thin as ice, and sharper than any knife or sword the Courier had ever seen. It shone dimly in the dying light, revealing aged stains of black blood, curling down to its hilt.

If she could see the man's face, she was certain he would be smiling.

Arcade sighed resignedly. "Perfect."


End file.
